The life of a Rose
by Skylaangelwings
Summary: Rose Weasley has it all planned out... Perfect grades, predictable life, friends etc. Sadly she learns the hard way that not everything goes to plan. With rumours of a rebellion by a not-so-dead Bellatrix stirring unease in Hogwarts and Rose's alienation from her family making things even worse, Rose turns to the dark and rebellious Scorpius for advise. But is he a friend or foe..?
1. Chapter 1

Rose Weasley. An intelligent, beautiful girl my parents tell me fondly. Sarcastic and smart, my family know me as,with just enough resourcefulness to weasel (excuse the pun) my way out of the trickier situations Hugo, my impish younger brother, seems to find himself in. Despite all this I'm feeling particularly gloomy, with a predictable mixture of home-sickness and trepidation, as I rest against the window of the carriage chugging merrily along to Hogwarts. I push an auburn ringlet forlornly behind one ear as I ponder my new life away from the comforting arms of my loving parents and Weasley household. Already daydreams of my crookedly stacked books, the cats which weave around the oddities hoarded and the homely scents of freshly brewed coffee swim lazily in my minds-eye, taunting me with their familiarity yet inaccessibility. I dredge up the remnants of my earlier excitement at going to the famous Hogwarts, with its magical stairways and total grandeur and the spark of curiosity helps fight off my misery as the train continues onwards.

"Cheer up, Rosy-posie," a familiar timid voice chimes. I glance up to catch my cousin Albus Severus staring empathetically at me. A frown creases my face as I recognise the insufferably lame nickname my family have dubbed me with.

"Thanks Albus, but I'll be just fine." I reply primly. Albus shrugs at my formal response, too hyped about the sorting procession to properly converse with me. My mind flickers back to the past summer spent at grandma Molly's rebuilt home and I marvel at the lazy days spent encompassed in her busy-body embrace and at the many bakery sessions she'd roped me into. I suppress a giggle at the memory of us attempting, upon mum's request, to bake a homemade apple pie using no magic. How grandma Molly had blustered around looking completely befuddled by the mundane task of making and kneading one's own pastry. The pie had ended up alright, thanks to my meticulous timekeeping and watchful eye on both the slightly lumpy pie and the "Jamie Oliver" cookbook. I still recall Grandpa Arthur's thorough inspection of the non-moving pictures and how he'd jumped out of his socks when my phone had rung, receiving a call from a school friend named Alice.

I'm startled out of my reverie by a tentative knock on the carriage door. I look over at Albus but he's too busy playing some zombie game on his Nintendo DS to notice. Unperturbed, I call out a polite "come in," and wait patiently to see who's there. It's James, who's smiling down at us both with his usual roguish grin. Behind him are Teddy Lupin and Victoire, my other cousin, who are attached to one another like long-lost lovers. I almost roll my eyes at their icky lovey dovey-ness.

"Hey Rosy-posie" James greets, swinging into the cart with the others in tow. "How are you finding the trip?"I reprimand him with my almond-coloured eyes, meeting his inquisitive green ones sincerely.

"Rose, not Rosy-posie, just rose." I correct smartly. He rolls his eyes at my stern tone.

"Okay 'just rose', how's the trip? Are you excited, nervous… Scared?" He drawls cheekily. Victoire twitters amiably in the background and tosses her golden blonde hair proudly. _Ugh, cousins._

"Actually _Jameson_ , I'm finding the trip rather pleasant and predictable." I reply. He raises one eyebrow as if to say "oh, really?" And I can't fight the competitive urge which rises within me telling me to truly prove that I know what I'm talking about. "Well it's rather obvious, don't you think? Albus and I are going to be sorted into Gryffindor, probably Teddy and Vic will too, and we'll make new friends and fall into the pattern any new boarding school students follow. It will be educational and informative, just as one might hope it to be." Victoire, who had narrowed her eyes disapprovingly at her nickname, snickers and repeats softly my use of "one". I shoot her a half-hearted glare, suddenly feeling too weary to be bothered with my holier-than-thou cousin dearest. James studies me with a look calculating and thoughtful enough that I have the desire to fidget or be away from his scrutiny. After another moment or so, the spotlight lifts and his bright green eyes sparkle once more with good-humour.

"Ah but Rosie, you forgot one key element to your stay at Hogwarts." He remarks coyly. My curiosity piques, and the cogs in my brain whir with what I might've missed. "What might that be? I already labeled it as educational, although I suppose it will also be very magical and intriguing." I think aloud.

"Fun." James beams at me. "Hogwarts is mostly about having fun." I smile politely back at him but inside my inner skeptic mocks my cousin for how the thought that the place where my parents helped kill Voldemort, AKA the most evil wizard of all time, could ever be more " _fun"_ than my quaint but cosy life back home in London. He departs with Teddy and Victoire soon after that and I leave to go change my robes, not bothering to inform Albus where I am going due to his complete absorption in the zombie game. If I'm honest, I'm not even sure Al even noticed his brother visiting.

Once changed in the wizarding robes I step away from the girls bathrooms (I wasn't entirely sure where I was supposed to change) and end up crashing into another person. I stumble back and watch the other person regain her footing, embarrassment and horror flooding my expressive eyes.

"I'm so sorry!" I apologise to the girl, also dressed in the black wizarding robes I am sporting. The girl looks up and I get a chance to finally assess who I've rudely bumped into. She's petite, the same age as me with raven black hair and striking blue eyes. She has a pretty, olive complexion and an oval facial structure which compliments her laid-back smile.

"No, no it's my fault." The girl says. I smile warmly at her, curious as to her origins.

"I'm Rose," I introduce kindly "Rose Weasley." Her sky blue eyes widen slightly with recognition. Although we Weasley's are not usually the famous ones, we still are known for our parents "Golden Trio" status back when they fought the evil death eaters and such.

"My name is Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn Brooks. My family and I have heard of the Weasleys." She sounds unusually sad and resigned at her statement and I have a moment of bemusement at her tone. Before I can dig further, Kaitlyn adds- "But you can call me Kat. Are you a first year too?"

I nod and explain at how I'm sat in a carriage with my cousin Albus Sirius Potter who is engrossed in a muggle game. Kat laughs at my disdain for the technology and explains how it is also her first year and how she's with her cousin Scorpius. The name rings a bell but I'm too absorbed in the new girl to muse on the familiar-sounding name. Just then a haggard trolley lady with a frazzled demeanor hurries across the aisle and I flatten myself and Kat along the side to avoid being run down.

"Would you like something from the trolley dears?" The woman croaks from behind the teetering towers of pumpkin pastries and chocolate frogs. I shake my head shyly and hover awkwardly as Kat buys almost her weight in the sugary treats. After she's paid and grinning like the cat who got its cream, I sigh exasperatedly but humorously at her being laden with treats.

"Do you usually buy so much?" I ask her, not unkindly. She nods decisively still overly-proud of her purchases. "But how-wher-"

"Where does it all go?" She finishes excitedly. She pouts her cupid bow lips in thought. "I'm not sure to be honest." She answers honestly. "Personally I draw it up to a high metabolism and quidditch playing." My eyes light up at her mention of quidditch. Strangely enough, and much to the dismay of Lily Luna, Albus and James' little sister, I seem to have inherited the quidditch playing gene, making me a bit of a sport fanatic completely contrasting my book-nerd genes. Hey, what can I say? I got the best of both worlds. Sadly my train of thought inspires the Hannah Montana theme song and it's all I can think about as I lead Kat back to my carriage.

Once there she dumps the delicacies on the seat across from Albus and plops herself unelegantly down next to the pile, already tearing into a chocolate frog. Albus is drawn out of his gaming trance by the only thing which ever does, the scent of food, and I smirk at his predictability. I practically see the saliva dripping as he gapes at the heaped treats and the pretty girl in our carriage. I shut the door then perch next to Al, chatting amiably with my new friend. She offers both me and Al whatever we want from her pile insisting that "friends share with each other," and we do swapsies with our lunch items as the train drives diligently closer to our new lives. My new life. And ,as I gaze at my lovely cousin and my bubbly new friend, my melancholy dissipates completely and for the first time since hopping on the train, I feel truly at peace with what is to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: sadly don't own any of the Harry Potter world *sighs mournfully* only the plot which is slow coming (I promise to speed it up in the next few chapters :) )**

 **A/N: Okay so this is the next chapter and my first take on writing about Scorpius *squeals* so tell me what you think. Suggestions, questions even criticism is good just so I know if y'all hate/like/love where I'm going with this. I'll try post another chapter or two but I have exams coming up so I'm sorry in advance... Anyway. enjoy!**

The train churns to a grinding halt and there is an instantaneous scrabble by the student body as they hustle to their luggage and friends. I pry my eyes open blearily, half-asleep on Albus's shoulder and lulled into a dreamy haze due to the chocolate and happy ambiance I'd achieved with Kat, Albus and the hippity hoppity choc frogs. My kitty, a small ginger fluffball who's I'd called Tinker after her sprite like playfulness nudges into my side purring. I bat Albus' hesitant hand away, dissatisfied with the outside noise and pealing laughter I'm hearing from outside the carriage.

"Come on sleepy head." Kat teases. The command is slightly spoilt by her yawning loudly but I rub my eyes and sit up anyway, letting my thoughts flit leisurely backs to me as I shake off my post-nap haze. I brush my red locks behind my ears and sit up properly. My brain finally catches up to my ears and I rush to my feet realising we are departing due to arriving ,at last, at Hogwarts.I drag my luggage down and usher us three out, clucking around like my mum might if she was platform appears jam-packed with people and I recognise my parents friend Hagrid, a towering half-ogre, and one of the wackiest yet most caring friends they claim to have, yelling out for

"First Yers, FOLLOW ME." Kat loops an arm around mine reassuringly and we push towards him, Albus traipsing nervously behind us in our wake. Once Hagrid has taken our names, with smiles at us all, we follow him as he marches us onwards towards the lake we're told to paddle across.

Tinker mewls from within my robe pockets and I stroke her fuzzy head absent-mindedly as I listen eagerly to the gate-keeper's boating instructions.

"Be sure not to fall in now, cause there's always at leest one of ye which does." He shouts. We are told to get into fours so I team up with Kat and Albus. We wait for one of the other kids to join us and gradually as the stragglers thin out one does. A boy with pale skin, a lanky frame, long mop of dark blonde hair and silvery eyes who comes to join us. The name Scorpius finally places itself and the picture fills out like a sick jigsaw puzzle. Kat's cousin, the one she came with, is Scorpius Hyperion- son of Draco Malfoy and some obscure woman my mother never thought to mention. The ringing words of my father, Ronald Weasley, of how the Malfoy's were nasty pure blooded wizards who were cowards and bullies echo in my skull. Scorpius's angular face doesn't pause to even glance at me; instead he's fixated on kat.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asks her, voice smooth as honey and thick with some sort of French accent. His silver orbs are engaged in a battle with Kat's determined blues and I know there are many hidden meanings in his vague question. They seem to be communicating to one another silently and the moment stretches and expands into a rather confusing debacle laden with angst. Albus is frowning at them quizzically like m,l and I feel slightly assured by our shared confusion.

Kat drops her eyes, shakes her head and the trance-like stare out is thankfully broken. She links my arm rather forcefully with hers. I blink in surprise at the possessive gesture.

"I'm making friends." She declares, grandly. "Unlike you Scorpius, I'm actually good with socialising." Kat's calm demeanor seems to crack a little and her voice betrays her pissy feelings towards her cousin. _Geez, I thought me and Victoire were bad. But these two… If looks could kill…_

"As opposed to what?" He sneers, condescension laced in his indifferent tone. "If I'm bad at socialising what do I excel at?" The words seem harmless enough, but I feel some underlying tension between the two which my analytical mind can't currently wrap its head around.

"Intimidation?" Kat suggests wolfishly. And just like the tension goes. It ebbs away like a whisper in a breeze. Scorpius' silver eye soften slightly at her quip.

"You know these people can't be your friends." He warns her. "Remember what your mother said?"

"Who's your mother?" Albus asks meekly, directing his nervous stare at Kat rather than her intimidating relative. Kat avoids his question, shaking her head yet again, and I wonder if it is her nervous tic, something she does when feeling uncomfortable or agitated.

Just then Hagrid walks towards us ushering us into one of the last canoes.

"Ye best hurry up." He cautions kindly, "Ye don't want to be late for yer sorting ceremony do ye?" We shake our heads and clamber in the creaky wooden boat.

Unfortunately I'm seated next to Scorpius who disturbs me slightly based on his cryptic attitude and how he's a Malfoy. I shuffle over to the far edge and look across the dark lake. It is pitch-black and shiny reflecting the rapidly setting sun and scattering the fiery gold and bright yellows over the surface. It's beautiful in a completely unique way and my excitement which had been overridden by nerves, flares up as I think about the Hogwarts castle and the memorises mother dearest would revel in recounting. She told me of its beauty and splendour, of Peeves the troublesome poltergeist and the friendly ghosts who would float around. I can already imagine how it'll be with me sat in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by the courageous and kind, chatting with friends while sipping pumpkin juice and looking at the portraits. I could hardly wait to talk to the Fat singing lady who annoys all Gryffindors and giggle at her screeching voice.

A sudden pat on my arm returns me out of my dreamings and silver eyes examine me calculatingly.

"Yes?" I prompt, trying and failing to keep the distaste out of my voice. Scorpius looks unsurprised at me tone, instead looking amused by it.

"I _said_ you must be a Weasley." He repeats , nodding at my reddish brown hair. I shoot him an indifferent look, refusing to over-analyse how he must know or why he's pointing out the obvious.

"Yeah, no shit sherlock." I reply calmly. Yes, I'm eleven years old and yes I swear profusely. Personally I feel it's the result of having such a large family and having so many cousins who don't have the same such qualms as keeping a modest/clean mouth. Hugo, my brother is worse and despite mum's scorn he still swears like a sailor. Fortunately his disarming smile and me, the 'resourceful' one, get him out of punishment. Scorpius merely raises a skeptical brow and I see his lips twitching as if he's fighting off a smile. I mentally scorn him for being so charming in looks but so cold as a person. _I bet he ends up in Slytherin._ I think with disgust. _Might as well join the family tree._

Then I remember Kat, sweet-toothed friends Kat, and I pray she ends up in Gryffindor or somewhere away from said cousin. She's currently looking out over the lake and lets out an awed gasp like the other students in front. The magically drifting boat has come close enough for Hogwarts to be in plain view. My jaw drops at the sight. Its turrets and stone walls are even more magnificent in person and the castle looms grandly, architecture exquisite and incomparable. My fingers itch for my luggage, which was taken away from me upon entering the rickety boat, where my own well-read copy of Hogwarts: A History awaits. I've read it so many times, a lot of the text is memorised but I still feel it should be in my hands while I admire the castle.

"It's… Amazing…" Kat breaths from across from me. Albus nods vigorously and Kat, overwhelmed by the sight, throws her arms around him in an impulsive hug. Albus blushes a deep red and I bite my tongue to keep from teasing him senseless over his newfound crush. Instead I prolong the Hallmark moment by grinning at the scenery then turning to talk to Scorpius about it, discarding any bad-feelings I'd felt towards him before.

"Did you know tha-" I start, socially. He rudely interrupts me with a scowl on his handsome face.

"-Don't talk to me." He says coldly, cutting me off.

"What? Why?" My curiosity compels me to blurt out. His glare shifts from the castle to me.

"Because we are not friends." he states matter-of-factly. Indignation and anger spark inside me at his statement and I can't help the rant which I release upon him then.

"Who the hell said I wanted us to be friends anyway? Did I say that, like, ever? No. Just because you don't like me, and trust me dude the feeling is _totally_ mutual, doesn't mean you can't converse in a civil manner to any person, like any other decent human being would." I glare at this last part, feeling the anger build. A small part of me tells me I should stop, if only so he doesn't push me into the murky, depthless lake, but I ignore it on a roll now. I'm pretty sure I'm not really this angry at him but my bitterness and nerves are contributing towards this vent, morphing into anger as easily as a melodic tune rises into a crescendo. " And on that matter, why don't you stop trying to dictate who and who 'can't' be your cousins friends as it is pathetic and unfair. You practically reek of prejudice and arrogance and I hope you get expelled from Hogwarts for your attitude and dictatorial views. Leave Kat alone."

The canoe goes silent with shock and tension. Heck the lake even seems to still at my outburst and I realise that in the canoe in front of us, its occupants are gaping just as astonished as Kat, Albus and Scorpius are. My chest is rising and falling in exertion and it's rather odd that I've reacted so passionately. Usually it's Hugo who's the spitball hellion and I'm the cool headed one, preferring condescension and silence over yelling or ranting. Albus look like he's just seen me sprouted another head and dance naked chanting mongolian prayers and Kat looks equal parts proud and shocked. Scorpius… I slide my hazel eyes bashfully back to his and I expect for him to look furious at being so thoroughly chastised. Instead his eyes, _damn it- why are they so pretty_ \- glimmer with something like...Awe? I frown, surely not. Kat looks worriedly at him and I think it's because he must have a short fuse and little tolerance as well. He breaks the awkward tension by erupting into laughter. It's completely genuine and surprisingly carefree. His laugh is melodic and slightly husky due to his French. Tears stream silently down his pale cheeks and I'm uncertain how to react to him nearly pissing himself at my rant. I'm torn between wanting to be annoyed _curious as to whether he finds me anger funny_ or wanting to join in. In the end though I do neither, merely waiting for him to regain his composure. Kat and Albus talk to one another turning away from the two of us and I assume it's because they're both bewildered with our exchanges and reactions to one another. In the other canoe, the occupants turn away to start gossiping over what happened. One girl- a blonde with pigtails- says something which interests me. I only hears snatches of the conversation though, due to their distance and Scorpius's laughter.

"-too elusive, his family used to be Death Eaters and apparently he's only been let into Hogwarts because of-" I lean forwards to catch the next part but the blonde lowers her tone to a hush and its lost into the wind.

Scorpius' laughter dissolves and he turns to meet my hazel eyes, mirth evident in his gaze.

"I think." He tells me sniggering "That this year might not be as uneventful as I'd first thought."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey readers! I'm very sorry for taking so long to update this chapter but hmm I was being rather lazy and I know that is no excuse but I was distracted by a couple (or ten) books in the meantime :) Anyways I have a couple of stuff to point out before you read this. Firstly: except my OCs and plot, all rights are to JKR, Secondly: this is obviously not coinciding with some of the stuff JKR have said on the next generation (as you'll find out by the end of this chapter), saying that it took a helluva lot of research on pinterest and tumblr for names, character traits, family trees blah blah blah (not complaining it was FUN to research just sayin' some charcters are a little adapted to fit in with my story plot and stuff- hope y'all don't mind). And thirdly (this is my last point I promise)- Would anyone like to be my beta? If so PM me... Hope you enjoy!**

When we arrive in the entrance hall of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we are all jacked up with excitement and nervousness. The grand stone arches and flickering torches make the spacious entryway seem ginormous compared to our smaller, younger frames. Portraits of Wizards and witches chuckle fondly at our awed expressions and in return we gape at their ancient tapestries and mish-mash of portraits and landscapes embellishing the walls.A magnificent marble staircase rose in the centre of the hall spiralling into many different directions. Frequently the stairs seemed to rumble and then move to connect with one of the many other hallways and passageways located above. The ceiling was too high to make out which added to the enormity of the place. Hagrid told us to wait patiently until our guide comes to fetch us for the sorting and no one protests to the friendly yet towering man. On my left Albus is revelling in the splendour while also trying to dodge attention from our fellow peers. Some of them have already recognised him as the son of the famous Harry Potter- _the Chosen One,_ the Daily Prophet likes to title him as- and with his scruffy mop of chocolate hair and emerald green eyes, it's hard not to notice. Besides him, Kat tries her best to help ward off the more outspoken of the group, particularly one Miss Polly Chapman with eyes as slitted as a snake's and a blabber mouth as loud and obnoxious as a foghorn. On my right is my blonde-haired cousin Louis who is fidgeting in his pocket with something. I sneak a glance at the mystery object but can only determine that it is something round and reflective.

Before I have chance to question him, the distinctive tapping of high heels on the gleaming marble floors arises from a hallway to the right of us. From that same hallway the voices of chattering, laughing people floats out to us. We hush and turn to face the stern looking face of Professor McGonagall clad in conservative navy blue robes. I wipe my sweaty palms on my black witch robes and audibly gulp at the oft-talked about professor. James had often told tales of her showing no mercy to new students and that apparently if you slipped up with the strict Headmistress her withering glare would literally cause magical flames to appear on your unsuspecting self. I knew such things must be codswallop (especially considering how naughty James could get sometimes) but it was rumours such as this which made me apprehensive when in proximity with the woman.

The witch in question, having arrived in front of us first years turns to Hagrid and asks: "Were there any problems?". Hagrid guffaws and shakes his head no, only pointing out the curly-haired brunette girl who'd toppled into the lake due to a curious event concerning a flying fish, long robes and an unfortunate lack of balance. The curly-haired girl smiles through her rat-tails, lowering her eyes bashfully when Professor McGonagall takes in her drenched robes. The professor cast a drying charm and nods in acknowledgement when the girl utters a squeaky "Thank you."

"Very well then, Hagrid. I shall take them from here." Rubeus Hagrid nods his shaggy head and lumbers into the passageway. No doubt joining the Head table in the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall leads us to a chamber just off of the entrance hall to speak with us before we approach the Great Hall.

"Good evening, first years. My name is Professor McGonagall and I am the Headmistress here at Hogwarts. Before you approach your Sorting Ceremony, there are a few things I wish to address. You will each be sorted into one of four Houses; Gryffindor-" Albus's eyes glitter at mention of his brother's House name "-Slytherin-" a wry smirk unfurls on Scorpius' lips, "-Hufflepuff-" a couple of boys snort derisively at this, one of them being a tall boy with a strong jaw and bushy eyebrows. Professor McGonagall cuts him and his snickering cronies a sharp look "and Ravenclaw." she finishes. Kat perks up at mention of the studious house and I wonder whether she is craving the blue striped tie more than the other colours. "Each house has its merits and Noble History which you shall explore during your time here. Your house is very important as it acts as your family during your schooling career. You will have classes with your housemates, sleep in your house dormitories and spend free time in your house common rooms. Each house has produced their fair share of Outstanding wizards and witches. While you are at Hogwarts your triumphs will earn you house points, whereas disobeyment of the rules will cause points to be deducted from you. At the end of the year, house points are counted and the one with the highest points will receive the honour of the House Cup." We all take a moment to absorb what she is telling us. I already knew most of this because of my mother and father's recounts of their time at Hogwarts but I understand it must be repeated for those who are Half-bloods, foreign or muggleborns. The scholarly witch's eyes roam the group of us, lingering on the bushy-browed boy and both of my cousins. I pray she can't sense my kitten Tinker who is curled up, asleep, in the inner pockets of my robe. Thankfully her gaze slides past me without comment and with a determined nod McGonagall leads us out of the chamber and into a hallway leading to two large wooden doors. Outside she checks with the snivelling caretaker whether the preparations have been set up. His nasal voice makes me uncharacteristically want to slap the crooked, cruel-looking man but fortunately the affirmation means we move swiftly past him and push past the doors to enter the spacious dining hall.

I gasp at the hundreds of candles floating in mid-air, illuminating four House tables crammed with students and the long table at the centre front occupied with the teachers of the Magical school. Above us the ceiling is bewitched, displaying a velvety black sky dotted with sparkling stars. Semi-transparent ghosts smile and twitter at us from the side lines, whereas students openly stare and gossip as they observe their potential new recruits. "Just like out of Hogwarts: A History," I comment aloud to Kat, who's openly admiring the view. Scorpius, somehow catching this comment, snorts and mutters something that suspiciously sounds like "Dork" under his breath. Professor McGonagall, after instructing us to get into a line, marches up to the centre of the Heads table where an old, crinkled leather hat sits on a wooden stool. The Great Hall hushes once we reach the hat and without any further pretense one particularly deep wrinkle opens itself wide and bursts into song;

" _Many decades I've lived through,_

 _Many a head I've seen._

 _For it is I,_

 _So old and wise,_

 _Set to sort aside you teens._

 _Which will it be,_

 _Which house are you?_

 _For only I should know._

 _I see inside to the deeper truth,_

 _And there lo' behold._

 _Perhaps you shall dwell in Gryffindor,_

 _The House of crimson and gold._

 _Their bravery and chivalry,_

 _Is something very well-told._

 _Or maybe it is Ravenclaw,_

 _With its blue and bronze ways,_

 _The endless wit and intellect,_

 _With to spend your passing days;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _With its yellow and black charm:_

 _For therein work the kindest,_

 _And warmest of all hearts._

 _And finally awaits Slytherin,_

 _In its emerald and silver galore,_

 _Which is best known for its cunning,_

 _And ambition for much more._

 _Whichever house you await,_

 _It is there you shall strive,_

 _For my judgement (so old yet true)_

 _Is always very wise!"_

As the final notes of the Sorting Hat's booming song fade, the hall bursts into applause. Once this dies down, Professor McGonagall pulls out a long scroll and unrolls it slowly.

"When I call your name you are to sit on the stool and place the hat atop your head. It will shout out which House it decides to put you in and you shall make your way to your House table, each which will be identified via applause and quite obviously its House Colours." We nod at her instructions and I forcibly stop myself from shuffling my feet in anxiety. _Don't be stupid,_ I chastise myself internally, _You are a Weasley,_ _ **of course**_ _you will end up in Gryffindor._ My mental scorn is interrupted by the first student to be sorted into a house. There are roughly sixty of us first-years gathered here.

"Abott, Melissa." calls out Professor McGonagall.

The nervous girl whom I recognise as one of the blonde girls whispering about Scorpius on the lake, stumbles up to the stool and sits down on shaky legs. The hat barely touches her head before shouting: "HUFFLEPUFF!". The table on the far right erupt in cheers and the pixie-cut blonde blushes at their friendly welcome. She is lead to a seat next to my Uncle Percy's daughter; Molly Weasley. I feel a burst of pride at my older cousin for being so hospitable towards the scared first-year. Until I remember that I am also one of those bloody terrified first-years and return to feeling anxious over my own sorting. A curly black haired boy with grey eyes and a secretive smirk gets sorted into Slytherin after three whole minutes of introspection on the Sorting Hat's part. The table on the far left applauds and a few people shake hands with the first Slytherin first year. The next two people to approach the Sorting Hat- 'Lucas Briggs' and 'Tana Bronte'- both get sorted into Gryffindor, which also applauds raucously. Fred Weasley and James hoot and holler louder than the rest of the table much to the dismay of Victoire, who is seated next to them. Her lip-glossed lips scrunch into a wince at their volume and I stifle a grin at her discomfort. _Serves her right for being such a prissy nag all the damn time._

"Kaitlyn Brooks" is next called upon and I squeeze her hand gently before she leaves and she shoots me a weak smile of thanks. I watch curiously as she perches on the edge of her seat and braces herself as she jams the hat firmly on her black curls. The Hat seems to hold a lengthy conversation with my new friend until it finally opens its gaping leather mouth to holler: "RAVENCLAW!" She hops off the stool, grinning and shoots Scorpius a haughty look which is replied with yet another cryptic look from the silver-eyed aristocrat. She skips over to her new house and joins her new ecstatic comrades. "Charlotte Delacour" also ends up in Ravenclaw, much to the surprise of her cousin Victoire. The second table to the left applauds politely and seats her next to Kat who offers up a polite smile. I watch detachedly as Robert and Matthew Finnigan both get sorted into Gryffindor and 'Daniel Fletchley' gets sorted into Ravenclaw. The curly haired brunette who's actually called 'Adelaide Jordan' is sorted into Slytherin much to the bemusement of the Hogwarts Professors and the ghosts, who recounted her father's (Lee Jordan) loathing of the green and silver house. She beams at her table however and looks proud of her chosen house. Some boy with the last name of Higgs is sorted into Slytherin. The tall, bushy-eyebrowed boy- who turns out to be 'Sebastian Krum', the son to the famous Bulgarian Quidditch Champion 'Viktor Krum'- is sorted into Gryffindor instantaneously. He swaggers to his table and I sneer at his arrogance and obnoxiousness. Even now, at age eleven, there are a few girls swooning at him and I am aghast at the catcalls he is receiving from some Gryffindor airheads. Two Longbottom children go to Hufflepuff with the third- a mousy brown haired girl named Alice- gets sorted into Ravenclaw. She looks queasy at all the attention and nearly faints as she scuttles to her table.

On "Malfoy Scorpius", the blonde boy besides me takes calm steps to the metaphoric podium and sits himself comfortably on the chair. Unlike his predecessors, Scorpius does not screw his eyes shut, take shallow breaths or fidget incessantly. Instead he sits as still as a statue as the Hat debates on his future with his clear eyes open and unwavering. He surveys the room as the minutes tick by and it feels like forever until the sorting hat finally speaks. It is particularly strange how the Hat seems unnerved after delving inside the boy's mind and this is most probably why the hat does not shout the House name into the baited silence, and instead whispers it, much to the duress of McGonagall and some other teachers.

"Slytherin." the hat mutters quietly and the Great Hall is too astonished to congratulate the young Malfoy boy who somehow took twelve whole minutes to sort. The wizard in question remains blank-faced as he strides towards his new house. Kieran Black is the first and only boy to stand up and clap for his Slytherin comrade. As he strides past me, Scorpius' grey gaze locks on me and I swear I see the corners of his mouth twitch as he passes me by. Not many of us remain now. A cocky sandy blonde boy named 'Everett McLaggen' gets sorted into Gryffindor.

"Moon… Nott…." both namesakes end up in Slytherin, whereas 'Maisie Parkinson' turns out to be a Hufflepuff. Jasmine Patil, a pretty indian girl with almond eyes and a slight gap between her two front teeth, gets sorted into Gryffindor. And then finally it is Albus' turn.

After only a few seconds the bright-eyed Potter is sorted into 'Gryffindor' as everyone predicted from the Potter-Weasley clan. After an enthusiastic handshake from Nearly Headless Nick, my closest cousin is ushered by James to sit wedged between him and Fred. Albus sends me a thumbs-up and I appreciate the small gesture of encouragement. A few names later and 'Louis Weasley' is sorted into Ravenclaw. Louis isn't the first of us Weasley's to have been sorted into a house other than Gryffindor because last year Molly Weasley broke the tradition by being put into Hufflepuff, which she claims to love. However he is the first to go to Ravenclaw and for this he appears extra fidgety. His pocket wriggles as he makes his way around the hall and I have to practically drag my eyes and preoccupied away to catch the "Rose Weasley" being called from in front of me.

 _This is it,_ I think cautiously, _the day I finally begin to re-live the life my parents shared before me._ I take wobbling steps up to the stool, hoping against hope I don't trip and fall like I was renown for doing as a young child. With each step I count my breaths, centring my thoughts and trying to 'ground' my anxiety, which is rearing up like bile, scorching my throat and making the hundreds of faces blur and dim a little at the edges.

 _Inhale._

 _Exhale._

 _Inhale._

 _Exhale._

I sit down at long last and nearly collapse onto the wooden foundations. My fingernails dig into my palms and the pain also helps ground me. The hat is placed upon my head and the last thing I see before I shutter my eyes is the concerned face of Albus potter. Once my eyes are shut, the Hat begins to speak. It's cracked leathery voice appears in my mind as though spoken directly into my ear.

"Rose Weasley," the hat murmurs in my head "What a clever little witch you are." I say nothing.

"Yes, yes- very bright, just like your mother… But I also see stubbornness and fiery passion in you, much like your father." I almost slump in relief at this, knowing the Hat will put me in Gryffindor. To my shock its speech hasn't quite finished yet. "-you also are similar to the Molly Weasley girl before you with your protectiveness towards your friends and family." it adds. "But most of all, my dear, you are sarcastic and witty and cunning- like the sharp edge of a snake's tooth. I see all of your jealousy towards your 'perfect' cousin and I see how underneath your subtle and introspective demeanor you are much like the Malfoy boy. You _crave_ adventure like it's a tangible thing- an exotic flavour or an unknown object- which it certainly is not, nor ever will be-" with slowly dawning horror, I understand what's about to be. The impossible, the total absolute _illogical_ event which is about to befall me and twist my fate into such a different direction that I may as well be taking a U-turn. _No, no, no!_ In a gentler voice the hat continues; "You may not understand my decision yet but eventually you will. Good luck, dear Rose, for you are going to-" the voice is now loud and broadcast for the final, domineering statement:

"SLYTHERIN!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey fellow guys and gals! Did you like the cliffhanger I left in the last one? Mwahahaha! I hope you liked it and the plot twist wasn't *too* obvious (at least until the last part). Anyways it's like 2 am and I should be getting sleep but I just HAD to upload this first cos darnnnn this is the longest chapter I've EVER posted plus Monday's sorta suck (regardless of whether you're on school break or not). Disclaimer: I own none of the canon characters or the Harry Potter world. Or the periodic table song (sounds weird, huh?). Anyways I feel I should pre-warn you that this chapter is HEAVY on the drama. Think of jeremy-kyle-show type drama, uh-huh, that DRAMATIC. Also I feel I should say: KittyKofficial haha ikr :P. Thanks for reading and stuff (now I'm rambling, ugh) enjoy!**

A silence descends over the Great Hall like a thick cloak. The tension is so thick you could practically slice into it with a knife. My eyes, which have flown open in shock, flicker from person to person. The confidence in me; the mantra which held my head straight and proud and kept me from crumbling is now deteriorating. For the first time in my whole life I feel completely and utterly lost. _No, no, no- this is wrong! I'm a_ _ **Granger**_ _and a_ _ **Weasley**_ _for Merlin's sake, there is no way in hell I'm a Slyth-_ I feel a hand on my shoulder. My eyes spin past the blur of open-mouthed strangers to meet the gaze of my new Headmistress. Professor McGonagall peers down at me and under her firm exterior, I recognise the flash of pity which is in her eyes. Soundlessly, I stand from the stool, still firmly staring at McGonagall to avoid the judgement eeking off of the student body. Oh-so-quietly she tells me to "Go find yourself a seat, dear." and with blurry eyes I do as I'm told.

As I stagger from the stool and that _damning_ hat, I can't help but wonder what past sins I've committed to earn me such cruel punishment. Instinct tells me to look up from the polished floor and to observe how my family have reacted. The first people my eyes land on are James and Fred. James' complexion is pale, as if all the colour has been sucked out of him and Fred looks rather green under his African-American pallor. Victoire, my _flawless_ cousin, has her nose in the air and her lips are curled into a smug grin. A rush of anger and bitterness causes my fists to clench and fantasies of breaking her nose to dance tantalising before me. It is Albus' look that stops me, however. His reaction hurts me much more than my other cousins'. I meet his gaze for half-a-second conveying with my eyes what I cannot verbalise: _this is a mistake. I am not a Slytherin, I am your cousin and closest friend, Al. Please understand I am just as stunned and disgusted as you!_ But those Emerald eyes shift from mine and the small movement of him averting his gaze shows me that he clearly does _not_ understand and that from now on his perception of me has changed. It feels like I've just been stabbed repeatedly in the gut and the white-hot agony of public condemnment burns me.

I'm almost at the Slytherin table now when I hear it. The sole clapping of one student. I whirl around, looking for the culprit, with my heart thumping wildly with apprehension and gratefulness. A girl at the Ravenclaw table has stood up and is applauding me. As i look closer, I realise it is Kat- the girl I befriended on the journey to Hogwarts, the one who'd shared her sweets and extended her friendship. A rush of love for the girl fills me and I smile gratefully at her for her bravery and empathy. _She would've made a great Gryffindor,_ I muse as I turn back to complete my walk of shame. Sheepishly following Kaitlyn Brook's example the teachers clap. Some of the less-prejudiced Slytherins join in- including the first Slytherin first-year sorted (Kieran Black), Adelaide Jordan and surprisingly even Scorpius Malfoy. Adelaide shuffles over for me and I almost collapse onto the bench. The curly-haired brunette gives me a meek smile before continuing her discussion on the Holyhead Harpies' latest match against Puddlemere United with an older bored-looking Slytherin. I feel quite numb, if I'm being honest with myself, and despite the continuation of the Sorting ceremony and the mindless Quidditch babble beside me, I feel the weight of many eyes on me. My fists are clenched under the cover of the table and I stare down at the glittering cutler laid out on the table in front of me to try distract myself from my current predicament.

I only half-notice as the 'Wood' children are sorted and the 'Zabini's are placed. I'm currently reciting the Periodic table in my head in a desperate effort to hold at bay my anxiety and tumultuous thoughts. _Hmm, now there are: Hydrogen and Helium, Then Lithium, Beryllium-_ _ **how am I a Slytherin-**_ _Boron, Carbon everywhere, Nitrogen all through the air-_

"I can't believe A Weasley has been sorted into Slytherin!"

"I know right… I bet she was adopted or something,"

"But what about her hair? It's auburn like a cross between Hermione and Ron Weasley's colours."

"She could've dyed it."

 _With Oxygen so you can breathe, And Fluorine for your pretty teeth-_

"I feel _soo_ sorry for her."

"I don't. Her uncle is the reason that the Dark Lord dragged in our parents as recruits for the War."

"My father's half-brother is in Azkaban due to _them."_

 _Neon to light up the signs, Sodium for salty times._

"-'bout time the Weasley's got off their high horse." a snide voice adds atop the ever growing whispers. _Ah, screw it!_ I conclude, giving up on the Periodic table song I'd learn a year prior, _it's time to put a stop to the gossip-mongers. At least 'til the Feast is over and I can find someplace to cry in private._ And with that, I shove aside my self-pity and raise my eyes off the empty plates and dishes and turn to face whoever is bitching about me. I scan the table with a calculative look etched upon my face. To my immediate left the Jordan girl is still nattering on at the girl across from her over Quidditch scores. Next to her Scorpius and Kieran are talking quietly. I doubt it was them as they were two of the few people who applauded my sorting procedure and no matter how many bad traits the Malfoy family held, I'd not once heard of them being whiny little bitches. I stifle a grin at the story my dad had one told me of how mum had punched Scorpius' father right in the nose in her third year. Holding on to my spark of amusement at the funny tale I see that directly across from them some older ugly-looking boys are sniggering to themselves. I can tell from the way they are glancing at me and whispering they are talking crap about me. There are three of them in all and the two to the left look to be at least thirteen with their broad shoulders, cracked voices and faces full of pimples- whereas the third, whom, upon a closer look, is actually the scrawny first-year who'd been proclaimed as "Baxter Higgs" completes the trio by looking needy and slimy on their right. I try to make a mind-memo to avoid these goons in the future and cast my eyes away to find whoever was talking about me aloud. Thankfully, I spot the source of my problems across the table to the right of me.

The source turn out to be the most stereotypical, shallow, self-obsessed person you can ever imagine. I know this by not only her appearance but how between bitching over me being in Slytherin and 'ruining her House name' ( _who does this girl think she is, the freaking queen!?),_ she spreads nasty rumours over some girl named 'Tiffany' from her Vacation and how 'the skank' _totally_ tried to steal her boyfriend, Eli at a beach party. Strangely, her tale reminds me of one particular Gossip columnist in 'Witch Weekly': Stephanie Melstrom. I surmise that the girl may have been Stephanie's daughter as they both share the same shade of blonde hair and mean-spirited verbalities. Next to the gossipy girl is a black-haired girl who looks eerily similar to Maisie Parkinson and a shorter girl who nods and smiles at all the convenient parts, playing the catty friend to a T. If this wasn't bad enough, the blonde blabber has boys and girls alike perched on their seats hanging on to every word. Not all the Slytherins are ensnared by her good-looks and plans of vengeance on 'Tiffany' but, unfortunately, most are.

At the precise moment that the Tiffany-hater is about to switch her hate-tirade onto me, Professor McGonagall takes to the eagle-embellished lectern and the Great Hall pays her respectful attention as she speaks:

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin on the banquet I wish to mention how the Forbidden Forest is of course, out of bounds, and that there is an updated list of Weasley's Wizard Wheeze's items which have been prohibited of use during this new school year- however we shall go through this after you have all eaten. Please enjoy and all the best in the school year ahead of you,. We hope to see great things." I applaud, along with the other students as she exits the podium to rejoin her centre seat at the table. Suddenly the fancy plates and dishes fill with mountains of delicious-looking foods. Chicken wings and chips, smoked haddock and battered cod, roast chicken and saucers of thick gravy, fresh-looking garden peas and fluffy yellow mash, joints of ham and lamb and beef with side-along sauces all appear in front of us. My hunger flares to life and I reach for the closest chicken drumstick, only to be caught out by the smooth voice of Scorpius Malfoy.

"Look at you hands, Weasley." he mutters, under his breath, not facing me. I follow the instruction and gasp; the crescent half-moons I'd made with my fingers had bitten deeper than I'd intended and were now leaking blood. I glance around, paranoid that my table companions had heard the remark, but luckily they were all too pre-occupied filling their plates and sipping from goblets of pumpkin juice and the like. I cover my hand back under the table, fretting what to do. You see, I wouldn't want to grab my food and smear my own blood onto it, 'cause that it… I shudder, it's gross. But I really am hungry and I don't want to spend my first night at Hogwarts both miserable AND hungry. Scorpius twirls his own chicken drumstick and I pointedly ignore him, assuming he's rubbing it in. "Weasley." he mutters against his food. I ignore him.

From the corner of my eye I see his silver eyes flash. "Rose." he hisses. The use of my first name surprises me, as does his tone which holds intention within in. This finally persuades me that the Malfoy heir is _not_ trying to torment me after all but sadly, his use of my first name has also garnered the attention of others as well. Kieran Black watches us both, along with Adelaide (who's broken off from her ranting), the three ugly goons and the gossipy girls. Scorpius, betraying no emotion on his face, turns his body to face me over Adelaide's curious gaze and he says, rather cryptically: "Transfiguration is a good subject. I'm looking forward to taking it." I blanche. Not sure what the hell he's getting at.

"What?" I blurt out, oh-so-eloquently. Scorpius points at his chicken leg, lying dejectedly on his plate now that he's neglected it.

"Gee, I sure wish that I could turn this chicken into a stapler." he adds, smiling. The goons are gaping at the strange Malfoy , wondering why he's acting so odd. Not only is Scorpius talking to a Weasley without insulting her, but he is also talking about something as common as transfiguration. It seemed dodgy already. I ignore the whispers surrounding us and run through his words, using my analysis skills to break down what he's just said and to configure the meaning behind it. I run through the conversation from the start, how he'd commented on my bloody palms then leapt to the conversation of transfiguration. He was trying to help me out somehow by- _by what exactly? And what has a stapler got to do with chicken…_ After a few seconds I catchon that he wants me to transfigure something to help with my bloody palms. The twirling of the chicken is another clue of how he's wanting to help me get to eat the chicken. ' _Turn this chicken into a stapler'. A stapler? Hmm._ With a beaming smile the pieces click and I realise exactly what he wants me to do. I meet Silver eyes and nod, transferring across how I understand what he means and taking the piece of chicken he holds out to me, using my right hand and concealing the blood with my robe as much as possible.

"My cat likes chicken." I tell the people watching before deliberately pocketing the chicken into the pocket which does not hold Tinker but instead hold my robe. The attention draws way as my Housemates are once again consumed by the smells and sights of food. I concentrate hard on performing this spell, modifying it so it can suit my purposes and thanking mum for gifting me with that Transfiguration textbook last summer. With a few muttered words and wand-work I transform the chicken piece into two skin-coloured plasters which I apply to my palms surreptitiously. With a concealment charm layered on top, I finally am able to remove my hands from my robes and dig into the feast. I smirk at Scorpius' back at his clever word-play. The anagram of 'stapler' being 'plaster' was very quick-witted and I respect him for the helpfulness.

As I tuck into my meal, I pick out key differences between our Green and Silver occupants to the other House tables. I haven't fully come to terms with being a Slytherin yet but now that the whispers have been replaced with the sounds of chewing and slurping, I'm able to spend my time thinking on other thoughts. Hence the differences I've picked from the different tables. Next to our house is the Hufflepuff clad people who smile and laugh constantly. I see bright faces and friendly jostling between the students as they each pass along food-stuff and share tales of family day-outs and the latest trends in the Muggle world. Having muggle grandparents and a mother who was muggle-born means I, myself, have explored the muggle realm and I've always been fascinated by their fictional books and TV shows.

Their postures are relaxed while they chat and eat and I see more than three Hufflepuffs talking while chewing their foods. I crinkle my nose in mild distaste of their etiquette then immediately reprimand myself for acting like such a slob. The Ravenclaws are more polite in their eating, and snatches of conversations about books, studying, new spells learnt and cultural debates carry along now and then from their occupants. Kat is in a conversation with Charlotte Delacour but when I linger on her (mentally analysing why she was so kind to have instigated clapping for me earlier) she breaks off her conversation to meet my eyes. I fight a blush at having been caught in the act but am relieved to see a smile graced her cupid bow lips and I mouth the words "Thank you." across to her. She shoots me two thumbs-up and the move reminds me of when Albus performed that same reassurance gesture earlier towards me. I feel sad all of a sudden and Kat frowns at me, mouthing "You okay?". I nod, repeating internally that if I act all weak I'll be eaten for breakfast at the table of the snakes. I remind myself that I'm stronger than this and when I mouth back "I'm fine.", I have already deluded myself into believing it. Funny thing isn't it, are lies? How it is so easy for us to combat others lies (or at least expose them to the truth), yet swallow the ones that we tell ourselves. She nods back but doesn't look like she quite believed me. I turn away before she can read too much into me, busying myself with an extra helping of mash and gravy.

The food is beautifully made but I do feel some guilt at how long it must've took for the House Elves to prepare all this. The mash has a perfect consistency and the strong beefy gravy almost makes me sigh dreamily. I've inherited my dad's love of food and as much as I adore my mother and how much she tries; her home-cooked meals are something to watch out for. I remember this one time, when my school friend Alice came round, my mum spent hours cooking up a curry. Alice and I had been out at the park all day, bird-watching and playing on the swings, and we had been famished when we got home. To my complete despair and Alice's confusion mum had created some absolute monstrosity of a meal. The curry she placed on the dining table was a washed-out grey with suspicious red blobs and the occasional spinach strand poking from it. I smile fondly as I remember the exact words which were exchanged at the dining table…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _We stare down at our plates in varying amounts of alarm and suspiciousness. Dad, having just come back from work, stares in horror at the blobby stew on his plate, at the head of the table. He prods at it with his fork as Hugo, to the left of him fidgets in his chair. Mum unwraps her floral apron with a reserved smile and sits down next to 7-year-old Hugo with a thump. Alice twirls her dark hair contemplatively around one finger._

" _Hermione, darling?" Ron begins, nervously. Eyeing the mixture dubiously, he continues._

" _Yes. love?" Mum replies sweetly. I cut dad a glance, hoping he know better than to criticize the tea. Ron hold Hermione's hand and rubs circles on the back of it._

" _What...What did you make for us?" he queries. Hermione grins, beaming proudly onto her handiwork._

" _Well dear, I experimented-" Hugo and I share a look at the forsaken word "-between two curries. It's a cross between chicken tikka masala and some thai fish curry I found on a cooking show." mum finishes. Alice pours herself a tall glass of lemonade, no doubt busying herself with the drink to not be under the pressure of eating the food. I send her an apologetic glance, telling her with my eyes how I'd thought we were ordering take-out when mum suggested 'curry' the other day. I skewer a large solid grey blob and put it near my mouth taking miniscule bites out of the mysterious substance._

" _What's in it, mum?" Hugo pipes up, twirling a red blob around the grey goop as though it is a sailboat in a sea. Mum rattles off a list of ingredients to Hugo as Dad sneakily tries to scrape some curry into a handkerchief and feed it to one of our many cats: Clover. Clover is renown for eating nearly anything but even she will not go near the curry. I summon up some courage and bite into the grey thing. Instantly I taste some rubbery fish slime mix with something sickly and sweet and I exit the room in a rush. I sprint to the nearest bathroom and the bile spew out into the toilet bowl. I shudder as the last bit of sick is deposited and mum holds back my hair, stroking it and apologising over and over. I meet her chocolate brown eyes with my hazel ones and tell her: "It's okay mum, I may just be coming down with something"_

 _Huo and Dad hover over her shoulder and Alice joins us all with a glass of water in her hand. I mouthwash and then drink some water and mum goes back to the dining room with dad to clear up all of the plates. Hugo winks and with a goofy smile shouts: "I'll go get the take-away menus" before scampering off._

 _I assure Alice that I'm fine and I only sicked up the tiny bit of fish goo which I swallowed. The long-suffering look we partake in makes us both giggle in camaraderie. From the dining room I hear mum complain sadly at how she "really thought this one would be better" and that "the brightest witch of her time should be able to cook one bloody meal, for Merlin's sake!" Dad sighs, and his voice holds the tiniest amount of exasperation when he declares her "the most hard-working, caring and determined mother anyone could ask for._

 _Me and Alice rejoin them in the kitchen. I offer to wash up and Alice claims the dryer position. Ron exits the kitchen saying something about "nipping to the shops for some more napkins" while Hermione smiles down at us both, popping a fudge in each of our mouths in gratitude for our helpfulness. Her eyes flick to the door when she hears Ron leave but the frown on her face disappears as soon as she meets our 9-year-old gazes._

" _Now how did I ever find such wonderful children as you?" she muses, as she thanks Hugo for the curry house menu. Hugo skips around the kitchen with his toy truck as I fill the kitchen sink with soapy water._

" _Certainly not in the same place you found your curry recipes." I quip, tossing a light-hearted grin at my mother. She mock-frowns, placing her hands on her hips._

" _Now, now missy. That tongue will get you in trouble someday." she chastises. I stick my tongue at her cheekily, feeling a glow of pride when Hugo and Alice both laugh. I reclaim my tongue, keeping it safe from harm from any nargles or other invisible creatures._

" _You love me really though?" I check, searching my mother's eyes for the fondness I always see there. She wraps me into a hug, ushering Alice and Hugo to join us. The jumble of limbs and warmth makes me feel happy. But not as happy as when my mother kisses the top of my curly head and says: "I'll always love you."_

 _Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

The memory fades as I'm tapped lightly on the arm. I turn to face the person who's garnering for my attention, shaking off the nostalgia which clings to me like cobwebs.

"Can I help you?" I question. My eyes meet the eyes of a boy I do not know. He is a first year like me, though, because he doesn't wear the personalised green and silver tie as the rest of the table does. He smiles kindly at me.

"I'm sorry to intrude but I was ever so curious as to what you are smiling at." he explains, curiosity glinting in the chocolate eyes so alike to my mother's. I touch my lips and am surprised to find them twisted into a wide grin. I laugh for the first time since I've sat down here and it's nice to know I can still keep some of my optimism whilst in such an unexpected predicament.

"I didn't realise I _was_ smiling." I begin, still smiling like a loon, "But I was just remembering the time my mother cooked me, my friend and my younger brother a curry."

"Oh?" he prompts, urging me to continue. I look down at my plate, which has emptied of the savoury stuff and is now awaiting the desserts splayed across the table. I recount the amusing story, emphasising the grossness of the curry and cutting off the sappy 'love you always' stuff at the end (I wasn't naive enough to think just because one guy was acting decent towards me, that instantly snakes would drop their sneakiness. I didn't want any private moments manipulated against me.). I talk between bites of tarte tatin (a french-originated apple tart). He listens to me carefully and asks questions or chuckles as though he truly cares. By the end of the story I have warmed up to the brown-eyed boy, despite me not even knowing his name.

I decide to ask him. "I hope I don't come across as too blunt." I begin, hesitantly. The boy glances up from his ice cream sundae and raises a brow. "You needn't worry, I don't mind" he tells me.

"What's you name?" I finish, taking the last bite of mouth-watering apple tart into my mouth and chewing languidly. The boy chuckles, raking a hand through his chestnut brown hair self-consciously.

"Sorry, that's my fault." he snickers, "I often forget about sensibilities and jump straight into conversations with people… I'm Nick Wood, it's a pleasure to meet you." He offers me a hand and I shake it, taken aback by how quickly this boy can jump from casual to formal.

"Charmed." I reply, releasing his warm hand from mine.

The attention of the hall turns back to the front and Professor McGonagall concludes the banquet with encouraging words and then orders for prefects to lead the first years to their respective dorms. Prefects stand and usher us away, Nice stays close to me and once we line up I find I'm behind him and in front of Adelaide, Scorpius and Kieran. I try to memorise the route we take to the Slytherin common room, which is located down in the dungeons and hope upon Salazar's grave that our common room is not the slimy, dank room which I imagine. I stay close to my peers, not wanting to risk getting lost on my first night here at Hogwarts. Nick turns around when we pass a gaggle of Ravenclaw first-years who are all pointing at certain portraits asking this and that. "Are you nervous?" he questions. I shrug, feigning nonchalance. "I'm alright." I reply, lowering my tone so that the prissy prefect in front of us doesn't try snap our heads off. Nick shrugs whispering back "I'm nervous too." I smile at this, finding it off how honest he is with me.

We reach a door which is grand and mahogany and leads down into the Prefect mentions that the Portrait next to the door (a tapestry of a Marie Antoinette-type royalist in a courtyard) controls the entry and how the password is 'Dragon's blood'. When we pass by the door I find it is deceitfully easy to hold, as it appears to weigh as much as one of my paperback books would. "It's a charm." Nick tells me as we pass through the door "For any non-slytherins the door would feel as heavy as it looks. Apparently there are tons of charms like that down here." I absorb this in silence, too weary to think up all the ways this could become useful to me. The portion of delicious food in my stomach makes me feel light-headed with sleepiness and I know biologically that it's because my blood has rushed from my head to my digestive system but I secretly conclude I'm tired because the sorting hat sucked the life and soul out of me by changing my fate and making me a slytherin. Down, down, down we travel… I feel similar to Alice in Wonderland, especially when we reach the bottom and an open stone archway displays the Slytherin Common Room for all to see.

Chandeliers weep crystals above the elegant arches above our heads, the floor is a sleek checkerboard black-and-white marble and black leather couches adorn the room. Plush velvet love-seats are splashed next to glass coffee-tables and metal lampstands. A bright blue fire burns in the large hearth and the neon colour casts an ethereal glow onto the rest of the -looking forest-green blankets layer the forms of some Slytherin older year kids who are lounging about or playing Wizard's chess. Dark green curtains look black and shadows appear to dance in the sheer decadence surrounding us. A black cat winds around the Prefect's legs and she stiffens at it.

"Loosen up, Esmerelda." a sugary sweet voice drawls from one of the jet-black divans. A girl with raven-black hair and silvery-grey eyes gets to her feet, reaching down to retrieve her cat from our Prefect- Esmerelda-'s feet. As the cat-owner straightens up she strikes me as familiar although I cannot quite place why. I'm sure that I would've remembered a girl wearing such high, black strappy heels or her red-lipsticked smile which shows off her pearly white teeth. The smile is as sharp as glass and something about- I notice the badge on her robes- _the Head Girl_ which unnerves me. Two prefects from the back of our group lead away the boys telling Esmerelda and her not-friend of how they were going to show the boys to their dormitories. Esmeralda nods to them both, keeping her gaze locked onto the raven-haired girl in doing so. I whisper good-bye to Nick and wave at Kieran and Scorpius as well as they are separated from me. I turn my attention back to the feuding older girls in front of me. The Head Girl doesn't look as uniform as I'd expect one to be. Her hair was loose and curled, not a hair out of place. Her skirt pleated and inches above the knee. Her shirt looked crisp and designer and her heels completed the upper-class, socialite look, of course not forgetting about her emerald and silver tie and diamond earrings. Despite the grandeur, she practically oozed self-righteousness and this irritated me slightly.

Esmeralda, through clenched teeth, introduces us to her: "Girls, this is-"

"Your Head Girl, Marissa." Marissa interrupts, scanning us all with her inquisitive eyes. She pauses on me and a devious smirk curls at her crimson lips. She stalks towards me, slowly and gracefully like a panther. "Ahh, yes." she remarks, "You must be the Black sheep Weasley. What a surprise it was to us all to have one of the famous Weasley children gifted at our threshold. What an _honour_ it is…" she mocks. Her manicured nails reach out to stroke my face but I slap it away with a slitted glare. I control my fiery temper into something more Slytherin-like. I mask my fear and rage with an indifferent look. Instead of shouting or spitting at the Head Girl I channel my tone into something eerily smooth and sweet- like poisoned honey:

"I would prefer it for you to keep your hands off of me. I may be in your house but that doesn't make me your possession." Marissa's smirk drops and I catch a glimpse of Esmerelda looking proud in the background. Her eyes turn steely before the hard glit disappears and she laughs, a husky seductive sound which echoes off of the dark stone and marble walls.

" _Interesting."_ she murmurs, "I'm sure gonna be having fun with _you._ " The words are too low for anyone but me to hear and as my jaw threatens to drop, she spins like a ballerina and flounces away , skirt swaying against her legs as she sashays out of the room. We can all hear the clicking of heels long after she's gone from sight. I'm more perturbed on her parting words. If she'd stuck around longer I'd've asked her what I was wondering now: _is that a threat or a promise?_

Esmeralda regaining some of her control now that the mysterious Head Girl had disappeared leads us to an archway where there is another hallway leading to yet another door where (yep, you guessed it!) yet another tapestry is hung. This time it is a pinched-faced woman with a Russian accent who demands for the password (remembralls). Once through Esmeralda gestures to the spiral staircase saying how the older the year you are in the deeper you live in the dungeons. She also tells us how (due to spacial requirements and Prefect petitions), fourth-years and above live in separate quarters under the lake. I have many questions surrounding this new change buzzing in my head but my foggy mind bitches at me that it needs sleep so I keep quiet and follow our Prefect as she allotts four to five girls per room. I am one of the last to get allotted but thankfully the longer we travel the less bothered I am by...Well, everything, really.

Finally I'm in my room where my stuff is and I actually sigh in relief when I locate my trunk at the foot of one of the beds. Despite my crippling fatigue, I still take the time to assess my surroundings properly and my new dorm-mates. Esmeralda closes the door behind us after wishing us a good night and reminding us that she and some other prefects will help us make our way to the Great hall before breakfast tomorrow morning. The room is fairly large and spacious. From the doorway, directly in front of me, I can spot two large double beds (with soft grey and green sheets) evenly spaced on the wall and there is a large deep, brown wooden chest of drawers between them which call us memories of the dining table at the Burrow. Shaking off the old memories I see that the floor is a cream carpet and that there is a door in the far left corner. On the left side of the room are two more double beds with the same bedding and colour scheme but smaller light-grey bedside tables beside them instead of a massive chest of drawers. Each bed has light grey flowy draw-across curtains for privacy although they appear more translucent than opaque. On the left side of the room there is a medium-sized white closet (most probably for the two beds with bedside tables), a beautiful long French Vanity with tucked underneath and besides that a large bookcase. Out of all the decor it is the sight of the shelves which excite me the most as I can't wait to get right into reading all the Hogwarts library books!

Now that I've surveilled the room furniture, I turn my attention to my three bed-mates, whom I will be housing with for the rest of the year. My trunk is placed by the farthest bed against the left wall. The girl sat on the bed next to mine has a mocha skin-tone, long gangly legs and dark brown hair which ends just above her shoulders and falls pin-straight.

"I might as well say this before I turn to a total Zombie-" I start, addressing all three of the girls in the room. Three pairs of eyes pin onto me. "-but I'm Rose Weasley. Yes I am biological daughter to Hermione and Ron, no I am not expecting you to grace me with _special treatment-"_ I sneer slightly in disgust at this, continuing on and reinforcing my defiant attitude by placing my hands on my hips (as I've seen mum do countless times before), "-and yes I was somehow sorted into Slytherin...Any questions?"

"Are you always this blunt?" a small blonde girl inquires.

"I'm tired." I respond with a vague shrug.

"As many questions as I do have about you and your family, I'm shattered myself, so I think names will be fine for now." the third girl proclaims. This one has ice-blue eyes and frizzy light brown hair, her skin tone is olive and her voice slightly-accented.

"I agree." says the first girl I noticed- the one with the coffee-coloured skin- she holds out her hand for a handshake and I shake it gratefully. I swear that I've shook more hands today than I have in years. I wonder if it's a Slytherin thing or just human politeness. "I'm Diamond Zabini." the girl says once we've shook hands. Her hand was small and cold in mine.

The blue-eyed girl with olive skin stands and walks towards me, gifting me with a curtsy instead or the custom hand-shake. "I'm Olivia Amello, I'm Italian by birth but I know English as my mother has a fondness for your countrysides."

"It's a pleasure." I reply formally. The last girl does not stand or curtsy or shake my hand. She offers me a small smile as she tell us her name. "My name is Bethany Greengrass, my mother is Daphne and Astoria cousin. She is a fine woman under the name of Kimberly Greengrass." After this, Bethany draws her curtains to get changed in relative privacy and I pen up my trunk to follow example. Once I'm out of my robes and into my pyjamas, I go through the motions of brushing my teeth, washing my face and brushing through my mane of hair before crawling into my new bed and under the covers. By the time my head hit the pillow, I'm already fast asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey readers! Firstly: I'm sorry for taking so long to update this story but I'm so pleased how many of you have stuck with me and Rose *beams*. This chapter's quite light- first day of classes and all- so don't expect too much drama in this one, 'kay? :P I'm not entirely sure how to respond to reviews so I'll reply here if that's okay? KittyKofficial: Thank you! I'm glad you like my story :) XxDontFearTheReaperxX: Thanks, I'll try update more regularly (perhaps every sunday, monday and thursday. Not sure yet but I'll tell you once it's decided) and XxxPocahantasxxX- I'm not too sure how to edit out mistakes but thanks for the middle-name reminder :) Anyways, on to the story... Enjoy!**

The next morning I'm awoken by the sound of giggling. A pillow lands on my stomach and I groan at the idea of getting out of my cosy cocoon.

"Nnnngmmfff." I mumble into my pillow. More giggles float over to me.

"You have to get up, Rose." a girl's voice reminds me.

"Five more minutes…" I whine, burrowing deeper under my covers. Another pillow is chucked at me, this one with more of a force behind it.

"Mmmf!" I grunt, opening my screwed shut eyes to locate the rude-awakener. Diamond and Olivia peer down at me curiously and I go through that whole where-am-I-and-how-did-I-get-here moment before the memories of yesterday return to me. I scramble up, cradling my throbbing head, and stare longingly back down at my bed.

"So sorry, bed." I tell my new beloved. "But I must leave you to face this harsh cruel day, alone." Olivia giggles at my melodramatic words but Diamond only rolls her eyes. I make my bed, whispering more apologies to the sheets before asking the dreaded question: "What time is it?"

"Ten past seven." Diamond answers with a wry grin, "We have to meet Emeralda and the rest of the first-years to be lead into the Great Hall for breakfast." I groan again, muttering under my breath at how early it was, when something sticks in my mind.

"Wait… You said we have to meet them in the common room. What time are we supposed to get there?" Olivia goes away to retrieve her wand from the top of her chest of drawers.

"In ten minutes." Diamond says.

"Aw, hell." I mumble.

Realising I have little time to get ready, I rush to take a shower in the large black and silver bathroom then throw on my pleated skirt, white shirt, (newly ordered) tie, long black stockings, school shoes and black robe. I utter a quick drying spell on my hair and wince at how frizzy it looks. Diamond watches all of this with an amused grin on her face, obviously taking much joy out of seeing me hop about the room like a loon. Olivia re-joins us looking prim and proper in her own uniform. She passes me my wand off of my side-table and then I throw together a satchel containing some quills, pots of ink and my textbooks. We hurry to the common room to re-join the rest of our year.

"Where did Bethany go?" I question, once we're almost there. Olivia avoids my eyes when she tells me that she'd left the room before she'd woken up. Sensing the white lie, I open my mouth to probe for more details, but am interrupted by the voice of Esmeralda scolding us for being two minutes tardy. I almost answer-back, perhaps mentioning how my brother

Hugo once was one and a half hours late to school and that two minutes was nothing, but I am shot down by Diamond's elbow, which she digs into my side in warning. I close my mouth and listen dutifully as Esmeralda recounts rules and facts about Hogwarts, where to find her if in need and blah blah blah… In the morning light (which must have been illusioned as there are no windows in the dungeons), I take the time to fully appreciate the expansive decor here. The room is just as lush as yesterday but I take into account other things such as the smell the dungeons has.

The room has a distinctly fresh scent like a mixture of oceanwater, peppermint and wintergreen. I like this as it doesn't cause any past memories to stir to the forefront of my mind; it has its own unique freshness. As we're led out of the common room, up the stone stairs and out through the upper-level passageways I ponder on how many people must've walked theses same routes every day and wonder whether they were just as enchanted by the school as I am. Finally, we reach the Great Hall and we all break-off from our line to find our own seats. I keep my head up and firmly ignore the glances I am receiving from people as I scan the Slytherin table. We first-years are early and scatter across the long table, already having found friends or associates to sit with. A brief surge of nervousness makes me waver. _What if no one wants to sit next to me? What if I'm left to sit by myself?_ Thankfully, Diamond and Olivia both wave me over and I sit across from them, back firmly to the other three House tables. I help myself to a bowl of porridge, choosing the one with chopped bananas and cinnamon sprinkled on top. Diamond and Olivia both start talking about the school schedule and I try my best not to fall asleep to the gentle lulling of conversation. It's not that my housemates are boring- far from it, really- it's just that I've never fancied myself a morning person and the early awakening (so different from my summer lie-ins) and hearty porridge make me sleepy once again. I reach for the carafe of coffee and pour myself a mug of the strong brown liquid.

"You like coffee, huh?" Diamond comments as I spoon two teaspoons of sugar into my mug. I smile lightly at her; "I'm not really a morning person, so I kinda need it." I reply. Olivia laughs at this and I rather like how bubbly and bright a character she is. It tampers down my snark and Diamond's dry humour a little.

"We kinda realised that when we had to half-drag you out of bed this morning." Olivia beams. Diamond drops her tone, conspiratorially tilting her head to the dining room doors:

"Talking of morning people- Malfoy sure doesn't look like one either." Olivia blatantly turns her head in his direction and I stifle a laugh at how un-subtle she is with her gawking. I busy myself by adding milk to my steaming coffee and glancing at the boy entering the hall. Sure enough, Scorpius is wearing a fierce scowl as he strolls towards our table. My jaw almost drops at the animosity that seems evident behind his eyes and I can't help but wonder what-or _who_ , more likely- has gotten him so riled up.

"Oh, wow." I breathe, sipping from the lovely caffeinated drink.

"Wow-he's-so-angry or wow-your-coffee-tastes-amazing?" Diamond asks me.

"Both." I shrug. Olivia chirps up, pointing at Esmeralda stood up halfway down the table. She's distributing timetables. "Ooh, look! Our timetables are coming out." she squeals. I wonder, not for the first time this morning, how Olivia got sorted into Slytherin instead of Hufflepuff. I gulp down more coffee and listen as Diamond and Olivia contemplate which lessons they prefer.

"I'm looking forward to Herbology." Olivia admits, "Mainly because in Sicily, the place we live in Italy, my mother and father worked on my nonno's vineyard and farm."

"Nonno?" Diamond queries.

"Grandfather in Italian." Olivia clarifies.

Esmeralda reaches our part of the table and she hands out our new schedules before turning and walking away. I look down at today, Monday, and what lessons I have.

"Oh no…" I moan, cursing fate for being so cruel.

"What's wrong?"

I point down at the schedule, feeling a familiar panic and distress. "We have Potions first period with Gryffindors. My cousin Albus will be there and I'm not sure how he's going to act towards me now that I'm a Slytherin." Diamond slides across a slice of toast to me, silently saying that I'll need my strength. Olivia shoots me a sympathetic look, arguing it "might not be so bad." I look at what other classes I've got today and am relieved that I share no other classes today with the lions. In chronological order I have: Potions, Charms, DADA, Transfiguration and lastly Herbology (which is with Ravenclaw). I tuck my schedule in my satchel, along with a provided map and time reference sheet. Then I take a bite of the toast Diamond's passed me and try to put aside any worries for the class ahead of me…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At 9 o'clock, me, Diamond and Olivia find ourselves outside the Potions classroom with various outlooks on our first lesson. Diamond is apprehensive, having told us both that she found our Potions professor rather scary-looking. Olivia is like a ball of excited energy, jumping from foot to foot in wonder of all the things we can experiment with. And me? Well, let's just say my own scowl was enough to drive off any Gryffindors from questioning my sorting. Fortunately, I am joined by the boy I met yesterday, Nick, and he has the good sense to not mention the Gryffindors in the line parallel to me. A tall thin man in a black cloak opens the door for us and walks to the front of the classroom.

"You may come in." his voice calls from within the room. The Slytherins go in first and we stand at the opposite wall to the Gryffindors. I see Albus for the first time this morning and my heart hurts a little when he blatantly turns his face away to talk to Jasmine Patil. I don't notice the sad look shared between my new girl friends nor the fact that Scorpius witnessed the exchange between me and my cousin. The Professor who has lowered his hood surveys us all quietly. He's tall and young for a Professor, looking to be in his late twenties- early thirties, perhaps. He has dark blonde hair and a small goatee which he occasionally scratches as he thinks. I'm not sure of the eye colour behind the square glasses he wears, but they look sharp and knowledgable.

"I am Professor Van Den Birg and I shall be your Potions teacher from now until the end of this year." he declares. The name sounds Germanic, or perhaps-

"Dutch." Nick whispers besides me. He smiles at my surprised expression. "I was thinking the same thing." he explains. The Professor cuts us a mean look and I have to forcibly refrain myself from taking a step back.

"Due to some new House cooperation programme the Headmistress has vetoed-" he looks smug as he pauses, leaving the intermezzo to create tension "-that students are to be seated next to a person from the opposite House." This provokes a response. Gryffindors huff and sputter in protest while Slytherins sneer and hiss.

"But Sir-"

"Slytherins can't be trusted-"

"Gryffindors are foolish idiots-"

"It's not fair-"

"Please sir-"

"SILENCE!" Professor Van Der Birg shouts. Instantly everyone shuts up. Everyone except the douchebag Sebastian Krum who natters on about 'my father will hear about this.' I snigger at the idiocy of the Krum child, knowing that the teacher will not take kindly to his snobby remark. And sure enough, two minutes later Sebastian Krum is pale-faced and quiet, arms crossed in residing anger. Despite the seething boy, the class is paired off all the same.

"Zabini and Patil."

"Black and Krum."

"Wood and McLaggen."

"Nott and Finnigan."

"Which Finnigan?" a boy pipes up. The Professor boredly points at the one who'd asked the question. "You."

"Moon and Briggs."

"Amello and other Finnigan." A spark of panic fizzles in my blood. Please no.

"Gryffindor Wood and Malfoy." _Oh, shit!_

"Weasley and Potter." The teacher drawls finally. _Fan-bloody-tastic._ I spite internally.

I traipse my way to the last free space, the one on the same workbench as Malfoy and his partner. I sit down next to Malfoy and keep my eyes centred on the desk as I hear my cousin sit down next to me. I pull out my Potions book, quills and free parchment and try to focus on what the teacher is saying.

"As you may now have gathered this lesson is to teach you the fine art of potions. It is vital you listen carefully to instructions and do exactly as I ask as the slightest blip-" he pauses, making a gesture with his thumb and index finger to emphasise his point "-can turn into major catastrophe. Is that understood?" A round of 'yes sir's ring throughout the room. "Today you will be brewing a potion which is known to assist with spells and rituals for visualisation, divination, purification and manifestation. Can anyone tell me the name of this potion?" I put my hand up. So does Olivia and Kieran.

"Yes, Miss Weasley." the teacher calls out.

""The Mullein brew." I answer, "Or otherwise know as the divination booster, as it is known for dispelling any bad energies present during a psychic reading." I feel proud of my knowledge and even prouder when the teacher says: "Thank you Miss Weasley, you are correct. Two points to Slytherin." I feel more than see Albus glowering next to me.

The teacher writes down the potion ingredients and instruction on the board then sends us row by row to retrieve our ingredients. I spin to face Albus and I open my mouth to ask whether he wants to go get the ingredients or should I. When I open my mouth, however, those aren't the words which come out-

"Look, Al, I know we were placed in different houses but I'm still _me._ Being a Slytherin doesn't change anything." His bright green eyes meet mine.

"Yes it does. How can it not, Rose!? You're a snake now, it's about time you admitted it."

"It's about time you got over it." I rebutt, eyes steely. I don't understand why he's acting this way, why he's being so… So _self-righteous._ "For Merlin's sake, Al. You're named after a man who _not only_ was a Slytherin, but later went on to become the _Head_ of Slytherin! Don't you find it hypocritical considering your namesake?" Albus glares at me.

"You were meant to be a Gryffindor, Rose. Or perhaps a Ravenclaw at a push. Not a fucking snake." Albus's voice is and has been gradually raised and people are turning to stare. Gabrielle Wood, who's seated next to Malfoy, is open-mouthed gawking and Sebastian Krum is 'oohing' like a tool in the background. It is very rare for Albus to cuss; unlike me he's usually more reserved with his language, so I'm struck dumb by his usage now. He continues on with his rant: "You must have something seriously wrong with you to end up in the snake pit. Just imagine what your parents will think. Imagine what the papers will think 'Rose Weasley, daughter of Ron and Hermione sorted a filthy snake. Must've been adopted-'"

"Screw the papers!" I interrupt, crossly. "Since when have _you_ ever cared what the gossipers say? You're my best friend, Al. I thought you knew better than to believe rumours." Albus bats his eyes furiously and I know that this is a tic he has when he's really cross.

"I don't believe the rumours. I just- I… How could you do this to me Rose?" he asks, voice weary and eyes sad and hurtful. My mouth flaps open as I comprehend what my cousin has just said. I become very, very still. And I close my eyes for a brief second, reminding myself that _I would not look good in prison stripes._ The classroom has gone eerily quiet. The teacher has just nipped outside to sort out some ruckus in the hall so now, instead of working on their potions, the class is finding much more entertainment watching Albus and I.

"How could I do this to you? Did you seriously just ask that, Albus Severus Potter? How the hell can you even ask that question. I did not _choose_ to become a Slytherin, Albus. But now I am one, I think it's time you stopped with all this slytherins-are-evil stigma crap and GET OVER IT!"I roar. Albus is looking both wounded and angry and I'm practically glaring daggers at him. _Why is he being like this? Is this what the rest of my cousins are acting like as well? Have all of them turned against me just as much as Albus; who's been my friend from the cradle, who understood me in a way no one else did, who shared the same dislike towards the media and the pressure of being our parent's children, yet still now views me as nothing but a snake._ I'm furious with: him, for being such a prejudiced twat, the sorting hat (for placing me into this situation) and most of all myself. What does it say about me that I have been allotted into a place where a lot of Dark wizards and witches had prospered. " _You're a snake now, it's about time you admitted it" plays over and over in my mind._

After a pause, I rub the back of my neck tiredly and sigh, feeling as though I've aged ten years in a day. And it was only First Period. "What do you want me to say, Albus? That I'm sorry? Fine, I'm sorry-" I look directly into my cousin's eyes, trying to convey my deeper message "I'm sorry that you cannot accept the fact that I was placed in a House separate to yours. I'm sorry that you are too blind to realise that Slytherins aren't all evil, twisted monsters and that there are good and bad people _everywhere_. I'm sorry you have changed your perceptions due to worrying what others will think of you had you associated yourself with a _Black Sheep,_ like myself." I smile wryly at this. "There are plenty of Slytherins who did not turn out to be Dark wizards or witches that you refuse to acknowledge." Olivia is watching me closely, as is Diamond and the rest of my Slytherin Housemates. Many wear cryptical expressions which makes it hard to know what they make of my speech. Albus shuts up at this, hopefully realising he has gone too far. Especially in a class half made up of those 'snakes'.

One person who does not have any sense of tact, arrogantly scoffs aloud at my statement. Many Slytherin eyes glare at Sebastian Krum as he opens his mouth and guffaws- "Oh yeah? Like who?" My eyes turn to slits. I dislike people doubting me and it is also a pet peeve of mine to have people interrupt a serious conversation.

"Andromeda Tonks." I reply, "She wasn't evil."

"Horace Slughorn, Regulus Black and Severus Snape." Olivia chips in.

"My parents, along with the other parents of most of the kids in this classroom." Diamond adds. Jasmine Patil faces her partner with a frown on her face. "Wasn't Regulus a death eater, though?"

"So was my father but that doesn't make him evil." says a Slytherin boy. I think his last name is Nott, making him most likely related to Theodore Nott.

"And for the record Regulus Black switched sides closer to his death." Nick insists.

"Maybe you should stop judging us on the past and start treating us as equals." Scorpius' voice sluices the feuding and the class go back to gathering their ingredients, heating up their cauldrons and following the instructions. All except Albus that is. He will not meet my eyes. So, taking a steadying breath, I push off from my stool and make my own way to the supply cupboard. I take out a small bottle of Mullein oil, along with some packets of sage, anise seeds, wormwood liquid drops and dried apple skin. I have no room to carry the dittany and acorns so I make two trips. Once all of the ingredients are on my desk, I begin to measure them and prepare them for the brewing process. Albus leaves the desk when I'm halfway done with the potion and ambles his way up to the professor. I'm feeling sad and rather miserable as I stir my potion anti-clockwise three times then clockwise three times.

"It's not your fault." Scorpius states. I look up from my amber simmering liquid into two earnest silver eyes.

"What isn't my fault?" I mutter, bitterly.

"Your cousin's view on Slytherins isn't your fault." he clarifies. " _You're a snake now, it's about time you admitted it"._ Slithers through my mind. "Mmkay." I reply, noncommittally. Scorpius stops me from fully looking away by putting his hand on my shoulder.

"No, really-" he persists, "-if he's grown up learning that most Slytherins are cruel, vindictive people, he's hardly gonna forget that just because his cousin turns out to be one too. He's confused, is all. I should know." I raise an eyebrow at this. "My grandad is a pure-blood supremacist. It took months for my mother to convince my father of the equality across all blood-statuses." I listen to this enraptured by this little piece of his family's history that he is sharing with me.

"Thanks Scorpius." I utter, once he's finished. A half-smile grows across his face and the silver in his eyes lightens a shade. _Wow, his eyes are pretty._ I can't help but think. I shove this promptly aside and hide my blush by turning back to my bubbling potion.

"No problem Rose." he murmurs.

After that the teacher declares it time to bottle up our results and hand it in at the front of his class. The room is a bustle of activity as people try hand-wash their pewter cauldrons or (if you know the spell) "Scourgify" dirty equipment. The rest of the day goes by without any problems. Charms is fun and both me and Diamond excel in the art of wand-waving and pronunciation.

At lunch I help myself to a turkey sandwich while I chat with Olivia about her Grandad's vineyard. DADA 's introductory lesson is led by a strict middle-aged witch who values punctuality (me, Olivia and Diamond are late again due to the hundred-and-forty-two moving Hogwarts staircases and winding hallways) and silence above all else. Unfortunately, our lesson is a talk on what we will be covering this term and then some reading in our textbooks over Boggarts. The quick-fire trivia at the end of the class was amusing however because Nick had answered 'What drains people of their life source and leaves them in a lethargic state for days afterwards?' with 'homework' instead of 'vampires' and Kieran Black had had a strong case for the existence of aliens, which aggravated Higgs, whom couldn't tell that he was just kidding with him. Transfiguration was amazing and I found the whole Professor McGonagall is an animagi truly fascinating. The class was a breeze and I was pleased when my mouse turned into a beautiful china teacup at my request.

When Herbology rolled around, I introduced Kat to Diamond and Olivia and we chatted over stories from today's classes. Heedless to say, the plants we were to take sketches of and annotate was to be finished as homework so I procrastinated on my work in order to talk more with my blue-robed friend. Five minutes before lesson ended I caught the eye of my cousin Louis. He pulled a face at me and I frowned back at him. "Ignore him," a dark-skinned boy advises me. "That one has serious issues with being nice to people." I turn to look at him but he's looking at Louis with an inscrutable expression painted upon his face. "He's my cousin." I feel the need to point out.

"Oh, I know." he returns, still watching Louis.

"Logan are you acting creepy again?" Diamond frowns. The boy- Logan- ruffles her straight hair affectionately. "Me? I think you must have me confused with another, little sister." he answers back. I look between the two, nearly face-palming myself for not recognising how similar they both are. They share the same colour eyes, height and skin colour.

"Little sister? I'll show you little sister." Diamond cries out, thumping her brother firmly in the side. He grunts a little then steps back, raising his arms in surrender. Though he is not smiling his eyes are twinkling in obvious amusement.

"Now, now kids," Professor Sprout frets "Play nice." A chorus of 'yes miss' comes from the siblings. Diamond whirls to face me, Olivia and Kat and explains how her brother is technically a second year student but because his Herbology grades were so low last year he has to retake the classes. A school bell rings out from the school building and we are all dismissed from the greenhouses. Classes are out for the day and I leave my friends so I can goto the library and chill with some books. Diamond and Olivia look shocked at my use of our free time but wave at me and Kat in good-humour as we head towards the library. Once we've arrived, I get my essays written up first and finish the incomplete Herbology work, before I start with my muggle novels. Upon bringing out my reading book Kat gasps and points at the book in awe.

"You like Vampire Academy?" she sputters. I nod slowly. "Yeah... Why?"

"Oh my Godric! I absolutely love muggle books and I've read the first three of those." I instantly start talking all about the plot and revel in finding a girl as interested in fictional novels as me. Hours pass in companionable warmth and I begin to feel closer to the girl who'd joined my compartment on the train. And as the day draws to a close I conclude that " _This year will be the start of many great things to come"._ I hold on to my wish, internally pleading that no matter what happens I'll always have my friends and (hopefully) my family besides me.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey y'all! Sorry for the delay, I was in Wales for a while and only got back home today... Wales was nice- pretty beaches, great coffee bars and all that jazz. Anyways this is a slightly bitchy chapter (what can I say? I like conflict and sass ;) ) and I've decided that after tomorrow (cos I'm gonna update then as well), I'll be posting new chapters every Wednesday and Sunday (because of school starting this Tuesday I'm gonna be swamped with work although I'll try update as often as possible for this). The story is gonna be split into Rose from year 1-7 and I'll tell you once she's finished year 1 (though it'll be obvious by the content of chapters as well). Sorry I'm rambling again... Enjoy!**

As weeks pass and the summer heat fades into the more relaxed autumn season, I fall into a comfortable routine at school. It's been three weeks exactly since I was sorted into Slytherin and I've been keeping myself pre-occupied with school and my friends. My parents do not know which house I'm in because I've purposefully left it out of all my letters and half-threatened to reveal secrets if any of my cousins dared speak a word to their parents over it. They'd reacted in different ways. Louis (with his sharp blue eyes and fair features) had sneered at me, then purposefully turned away to fiddle with whatever round, shiny object he had kept stashed in his robe pockets; whereas James and Fred had nodded sadly, seeming pitiful towards me. Victoire had blathered on about 'karma', only shutting up when I mentioned me knowing about her and Teddy's secret make-out spot (Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, weirdly enough) and hinted that I may let it slip to my favourite professor who also happens to be _the_ Headmistress. Molly didn't need any threats nor did she seem pitiful. She wholeheartedly agreed not to say anything, mildly adding how she respected my reasons for doing so but cautioned me 'not to wait too long'. Roxanne didn't really give a damn about me or my house and she was renown for consorting with any Houseboy which took her fancy, so she said she wouldn't speak about it.

It was a drizzly Sunday afternoon and I was working on my Charms essay in the library when I heard it. I finished my sentence then placed my Quill down, taking mind not to smear ink on my piece of parchment. I turn to Kat, who has become my best friend and study buddy, to check if she hears anything. Her nose is deep within a book on _Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger (Volume 2)_ and I recall her telling me earlier of a 'sleeping draught' potion she was supposed to memorise for a test next lesson. I decide to leave her be and stand up to investigate by myself. Following the source of the noise (which sounds like a muffled conversation) I find myself in a secretive nook of the library. Between two shelves I find two girls arguing with one another. The one with the yellow striped tie is Maisie Parkinson and the one with the green-striped tie is the girl I'd thought looked eerily similar to her, the one who'd been the blonde gossip's sidekick, during the Feast on my first evening at Hogwarts.

"Mum is gonna freak when she finds what house you were put in." green-tie mumbles.

"I already told her." Maisie replies. Her sister gasps and sputters incredulously at her statement. "You told her you are a _Hufflepuff?_ Are you insane!?"

"I'm sick of lying to her, Sophie. She know that I'm nothing like her, so it's about time we stopped pretending I am." Maisie sounds defiant but also tender. It's a strange mix of strength and vulnerability and it weirdly reminds me of my muggle friend Alice, whom I am still in contact with, at home. Sophie looks worried when she looks down at her younger sister. "Mum will disown you, I'm sure of it. You know how lowly she thinks of Hufflepuffs. Not only that but you've befriended _blood-traitors."_ The use of the word shocks me. I'd kind of assumed that no one cared about heritage anymore. It was punishable at Hogwarts for you to use words such as 'blood-traitor' or 'mudblood' and a person risked isolation (or even expulsion!) had they kept up with the prejudices openly. Maisie looks annoyed at the word but not scandalised like me. Obviously she'd heard it being said many times before. "You shouldn't call them that, Sophie. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with Grace Longbottom, nor Daisy Dursley." Sophie hisses at this. She shoves her younger sister against the nearest case and raises her hand threateningly. Maisie flinches back, terrified her sister will hit her. That's when I have to intervene.

"Hey!" I exclaim. Two pairs of eyes turn to face me. Sophie looks disgusted but Maisie seems happy I'm here. "Leave her alone." Sophie steps back from Maisie. She leaves gracefully, tossing the words "Fine, be proud to be a misfit. See if I care." at her sister before she's gone. After she's left I ask Maisie if she's okay and tell her that I think she's very brave for telling her parents of her sorting. Maisie smiles at this, confessing: "I owled my mum this morning actually. I'm sure I'll receive a howler but it's better for me to get it out of the way so I'm not worried about it the rest of the year, y'know?" I nod, wondering aloud whether I should do the same.

I lead Maisie back to my table, listening while she encourages me towards admitting my House to my parents. I tell her how I've owled Alice, my muggle friend, about it and she told me that she doubts my mother would mind. My father- Ron Weasley- is trickier to predict how he'll react. I introduce her to Kat, who takes in enough air to say "Hello", before delving back into her work. After an hour or so of getting-to-know-you talk I decide to be brave like Maisie and write a letter to my family. Maisie offers to help and I thank her profusely before we get to work. By the time lunch rolls around, we have created a letter fit for my parents. It reads:

 _Dear Mum and Dad,_

 _I know it has not been but a few days since I last wrote but I feel I must be honest with you and tell you some things. In the Sorting Ceremony, I was not placed in Gryffindor, as you and my cousins expected, but in Slytherin. Despite its bad reputation you must take into account that it was the Sorting Hat whom decided my fate and that the emerald and silver house is renown for its cleverness and determination, as well as its cunning. I have made friends in my new house; Diamond, Olivia and Nick, who I've mentioned previously and I am also close to a Ravenclaw girl called Kat and a Hufflepuff named Maisie. I hope you understand and respect the situation and do not take any bad feelings upon yourselves, due to some of the History Salazar's house may have._

 _Love always,_

 _Rose_

"It's perfect." Maisie beams. I smile back at her as she reminds me so much of Olivia.

"I sure hope so." I reply. I leave Kat and Maisie to go to the Owlery and post my letter. On the stairway up to the tower I pass by Sebastian Krum, my new nemesis. I absolutely despise the guy and everything from his polished Bulgarian shoes to his bushy eyebrows annoys me. I cannot see how anyone sees anything with real substance in his vacuous brain. I try to pass him and his Gryffindor buddies in the hallway but he blocks my path. I step to the side, yet once again he moves to stand in front of me. Everett McLaggen and Tom Heplon (his Gryffindor side-kicks) chortles at me. I stop and glare up at him, placing my hands on my hips. "Move it, Krum." I order. Sebastian Krum smirks at me and contends: "Not a chance, _Rosie Posie_." _Ugh, what a douche._ "Rose." I correct, "Not Rosie Posie. My name is Rose."

"Sure thing, petal." Sebastian smarms. McLaggen and Heplon titter loudly at this and I force myself not to slap them both.

"Shut up." I spit behind gritted teeth.

"Make me." he growls. The tension increases and finally it clicks why he's acting especially jerk-like today. You see, last Friday in flying classes we'd been able to play our first Quidditch game and us Slytherins had been versed against Gryffindors. Each house was split into smaller groups of seven (as there were seven members in each Quidditch team) and I'd absolutely whooped his butt in our Quidditch match. What can I say? I make a mean beater. When I look closely I see the puffiness just beneath his right eye where one of my bludgers had landed. This makes me smirk and inch closer to the despicable boy. I'm one step below him, but the steps are not very steep so I'm able to come close enough to trace a finger under his eye, circling where the bruise used to be. He shivers at my touch.

"Ahh…" I begin, still smirking wickedly. "Is someone still bitter over losing that Quidditch match?" I taunt. The sidekicks stop their titters and I hear one of them audibly gulp. Sebastian scowls down at me. "That was a fluke." he announces, arrogantly.

"Nuh-uh." I mock, "You lost fair and square to a bunch of Slytherins. You're just too scared to admit it." I glance up at the door to the owlery and faux-gasp, ramping up my disdain for the Krum boy. "Ooh! Does Daddy dearest know of this?" Sebastian is breathing heavily now, a flush painting his pretty little face. I know I should stop before he attempts to push me down the stairs but I'm just having too much fun. A little voice inside me blames him for Albus' reaction to my House. I know it isn't entirely logical but it's _his_ kind of views on our House which causes such animosity towards us. Therefore, somewhere between now and that Potions lesson, he has become the poster-boy for Gryffindor arrogance. My smirk morphs into a wicked grin as I continue. "I wonder which he'd be more ashamed of: his young son losing a match against another House team _or_ you having gotten bludgeoned by a Slytherin _girl."_ A hand encircles my wrist and drags me back down a step.

"I'm very sorry for my friend here," a smooth voice apologises, "She has the troublesome trait of getting a rise out of people." I look in surprise at Scorpius Malfoy, who is the person attached to the hand which is holding my wrist. Without hearing what Krum and co. have to say he walks swiftly past them up the stairs, dragging me after him.

"Hey!" I protest, "I can walk by myself y'know." He ignores me. Only once we're inside the Owlery and he's closed the door (and locked it with a spell) does he release my wrist.

"What was that for?" I complain, rubbing my sore spins and faces me with an irritated expression across his aristocratic features.

" _That_ was to stop you before you got yourself killed." he mutters, "And they say that Slytherins are all about self-preservation." he adds under his breath. I roll my eyes at this.

"I was doing perfectly fine by myself, thank you very much." I comment, determined not to lose this battle.

"Hm. So you _weren't_ just antagonising Sebastian Krum by rubbing it in his face how he lost a Quidditch match _and_ got injured by you and your team." he accuses. _Ah, when you put it like that…_ "Ugh, fine. Maybe I was being a bit too snarky with Se-bastard." I flop down on a chair, busying myself by searching the ceiling for a Hogwarts-bred owl. They are easily identifiable by them being all barn owls and also having the Hogwarts crest stickered onto their left legs.

"What did you just call him?" Scorpius asks. I don't bother looking at him as I've found one owl for me to use.

"Here, birdy, birdy." I call out. The barn owl flaps its brown and white speckled wings. It fluffs them up proudly and I resort to flattery to ease him out. My voice drops an octave or two as I coo: "Who's a pretty birdy? You are, beautiful. Come here sweetie, come on. I don't bite…" with a final hop the bird flies towards my outstretched hand and I smile fondly at him. I stroke his prime feathers and whisper sweet nothings to the owl. He nuzzles my hand with his head and puffs up his chest, much like a peacock does when its flaunting itself. "Aww. Well aren't you sweet. Would you do me a favour though and deliver this letter to my parents-" the bird lifts its leg and I fasten on the letter with a ribbon Maisie gave me. I lead the owl over to the window, feeding hims some seeds and thanking him. With one final coo, the owl flaps its wings and leaves, swooping majestically out of the window and into the sky. I remember that Scorpius asked me a question and reply to him.

"Hm? Are you talking about my preferred nickname: Se-bastard?" his lips quirk into a half-grin. "Yeah, I thought it up last week when he was acting like one." My stomach rumbles and I blush, cursing its volume. "I should go." I mutter, twisting my fingers together, strangely self-conscious around the mysterious Slytherin boy. He nods but when I turn around he stops me.

"Rose." he calls out. I spin round, wondering whether he's going to chastise me for my encounter with Krum. Sure enough, the first words he say are: "Be careful with Krum. He may seem a bit…"

"Of an insolent, proud, stuck-up _jerk?"_ I suggest, helpfully. The corner of his lips twitch again, as though fighting down a smile.

"I was actually thinking of the english translation of 'connard'." he replies, brows knitted together in concentration. I mull it over, using what Aunt Fleur and Dominique have taught me of the language. I'm nowhere near fluent, but I know enough to scrape conversation. Dominique had also done me the favour of teaching impressionable nine-year-old me all the French cusses under the twinkling fairy lights of her self-made den. The word connard finally clicks and I laugh, catching Scorpius by surprise.

"Asshole? You think of him as an asshole?" I chuckle. He raises one elegant eyebrow, dropping the detached graces to allow a small smile to curl up along his lips.

"Don't you?" he points out. I nod, letting my laughter die down until we're both stood facing each in an albeit awkward silence. I'm the first one to speak.

"I honestly didn't mean to provoke him quite that far," I admit, lowering my eyes shyly "It's just he… He thinks of us like dirt and I'm _sick_ of all Gryffindors looking down at me, at all of us Slytherins, like we're all _dung beetles_. Less than that, even. At least dung beetles get as precious to the Ancient Egyptians. They had murals and were worshipped due to being believed to be the incarnations of the Sun God Khepri. And did you know that one tenth of all known beetles are scarab beetles, which means-"

"Rose-" Scorpius interrupts,

"-that there are an estimated _thirty thousand_ -"

"Rose, stop."

"-scarab beetles out there and… And-"

"Ça suffit." One finger is pressed against my lips. I quieten, eyes blurry. "That's enough, Rose." he translates, softly. I blink back my tears, angry I'd become so emotion over someone like Sebastian Krum. I knew that I wasn't really angry at him. At least not his character. But something that ran deeper, more personal. But (like any proud eleven year old would) I stuffed these questions inside and decided to forget the whole affair which had just taken place. I raise my eyes, barricading any lingering vulnerability with a tough front.

"I need to go." I declare, stiffly. And without turning to see those knowing silver eyes, I turn and run as far and as fast as I can go. Back down into the pulsing heart of Hogwarts.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Walking into the Great Hall is a huge relief. At least, at the start. I scan the heads of pupils to find the pin-straight hair of Diamond and Olivia's pearly smile. I can't find them and I feel a lurch of nausea at the thought of having to sit next to strangers to eat my lunch. I would have sat with Maisie or Kat except they were both absent- _probably still in the library,_ I conclude to myself. Upon my observation, I notice with a good doling of surprise that Marissa is present at the Slytherin table. She hardly ever shows up for meals and I'd started to think that the Head Girl was either suffering from a food problem or a closeted vampire. I suppress a snigger at the thought of an uber gay vampire roaming the halls, having late night chit chat with faux-Marie Antoinette and spooking the ghosts by gossiping over which people they have personally killed over something as ridiculous as the newest Gucci product… Anyway, returning to the present, I watch with mild curiosity as she steals food off of Kieran's plate. He looks annoyed at her, especially when she nibbles the best part of his bacon. She says something to him and he shakes his head in vehement disagreement. A few people try to eavesdrop but from the disappointed looks on the nosy parker's faces, I can sense that one of them has cast a silencing spell around the conversing twosome. Further along Nick is reading something while layering pȃté onto some bread rolls. I make a beeline for him, swinging into the seat next to him.

"Hey," I greet, warmly. I let out a relieved sigh. "Thank Salazar you're here!" He raises his eyes from his page, a strand of hair falling across his twinkling eyes. "Not quite the welcome I expected, but I'll take it nonetheless." He reaches for the jug of pumpkin juice, pouring me a tall glass as I explain: "I've just written a letter to my parents telling them that I'm in Slytherin, then mocked Krum on the way to the owlery before being dragged off by Scorpius, who told me off for fighting with Krum. I sent my letter then acted all angry and stuff over that absolute _pig_ Bulgarian, then started ranting on Dung beetles so I ran here and couldn't find Olivia or Diamond but here you are and Ta Da! Alas, you showed yourself and are now acting as my agony aunt while I vent to you." I take in a deep breath, slightly winded by the rush of words I'd just expressed. He places the jug down slowly, then turns to me with a 'wth' look on his face. He gives my hand a comfortable squeeze under the table. He drops my hand and reverts his attention back to his food before returning to his usual form of 'saving Rose from an anxiety attack'; which is to say that he was distracting me.

"Um, Rose?"

"Yep?"

"I think… That's the most I've ever heard you say at one given time." he muses. I nod my head, "I know right, I'm kinda shocked myself." I sip my juice and take a few bites out of the pȃté bread offered to me with grateful smile. "What pȃté is this by the way?" I ask, rolling the taste around my mouth. Nick shrugs: "The menu said a mixture of meats." I place the mystery spread back down, finding it way too overpowering for my liking.

"Mystery meat. Yum." I comment, dryly. Nick laughs, then glances at his pocketwatch. The ornate silver cased planet rotation device makes zero sense to me, who'd been brought up with muggle watches not astrological compass-type things. I can't help but feel saddened when Nick regretfully tells me he has to get to a study session. All the same, I wave a bread roll at him in 'goodbye', trying to finish my pumpkin juice so I can leave as well. I upturn the glass, sucking up the last fe pulpy dregs and by the time I've slurped the final drop I see two morphed bodies in front of me through the bottom of my glass. I put the drink down, narrowing my eyes in suspicion at the three newcomers. It's the blonde gossiper, Sophie- Maisie's sister- and the third crony in the bitchy trio.

"Can I help you?" I ask, politely. Blondie stretches her lipsticked hips into the widest smile I'd ever seen. The smile throws me off a little and I begin doubting whether her bitchy comments on the first night were her darker side in play. She sticks out her right hand and I shake it dazedly.

"My name's Melstrom. _Vanessa_ Melstrom-" _Ah, so she is Stephanie Melstrom- witch weekly columnist's- daughter._ "And these are Sophie and Ashley." Sophie keeps her face carefully blank, remembering me from earlier today in the library, and Ashley waggles her fingers in a half-interested fashion. The beeps from Ashley's hot pink blackberry make me wonder whether she's even listening to Vanessa or is totally pre-occupied by texting. I turn my attention back to Vanessa, who's twirling a strand of her long hair round and round one manicured finger.

"My name's Rose W-"

"-Weasley." Vanessa interrupts. _Darn! When are people gonna quit interrupting me?_ "I know. _Everybody_ knows who you are." I don't like where this is heading. Nor do I like the way Sophie's eyes dart nervously to the Great Hall doors as though wishing for escape. Vanessa's high-pitched voice drops an octave. Or three. "Which is why we were wondering whether we could have a personal interview with the Weasley misfit." I almost choke on air at her last words.

" _Excuse me!?"_ I gasp. Vanessa's fuchsia-tinted smile does not so much as twitch at my outburst. Instead she leaned closer, crooking her finger in a 'come hither' action and dropping her squealing tone to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Don't act so surprised. Everyone's practically dying to know what happened to you. Your rumoured adoption, your childhood with the Golden parents, your best friend Alice-" I scowl and then blanche at her words. Sensing my immense disapproval and niggling questions Sophie mutter's: "She has connections. No doubt your entire life story will be revealed in a few months time." Maisie's sister's voice is serious and I think there is a hidden warning threaded within the words she speaks. Vanessa carries on, tossing her locks off of her shoulders for dramatic effect. "And Alice is a muggle as well! How very _Granger_ of you to welcome such people into your lives and hearts." On paper the words sound sweet, admiring perhaps, yet in reality her tone drips honeyed disdain. I quickly withdraw my good-intentions towards her, disliking her meanness by leaps and bounds. "Why wouldn't I what to know about your history little Rosie-" I grit my teeth at this and my fingernails dig deep into my tender palms. "-I could make you famous, you know. Me and my mum could turn your insignificance into something even the upper-class Slytherin purebloods could respect and admire." I pretend to consider her wacked up deal. Noting the way her almond-shaped eyes gleam in eagerness and ambition. I tap my chin as though deep in thought.

"And if I have no such desire to become your little magazine girl to boost your mum's bank balance?" I drawl ever-so-slowly. The intent from her eyes drains away and they narrow to slits. Ashley's mouth makes a perfectly round 'o' shape and her phone clatters to the floor. We've somehow garnered attention off of the lunch table without me realising it. Nearly half of the table is observing and the other half are whispering and tittering at our 'commotion'. Sophie looks worried. As though dreading what's coming next. Vanessa leans back and crosses her long, tanned legs which are coincidentally (or not) on display.

"I would've thought being a _Weasley_ the temptation of putting together a true name for yourself- and the promise of money- would seal such deals. I was obviously wrong. But then again, I should've know that _Rosie Posie,_ runt of the litter, wouldn't care for such high-standard things." This infuriates me. A lot. It resurfaces a lot of my buried doubts over me being sorted into Slytherin, being a disappointment to my Gryffindor family and raises a lot of new queries over what the hell is waiting for me in my not-so-predictable future. I do something that I shouldn't and normally wouldn't have done. Especially not as Hermione Granger's daughter. Nor having only had three weeks in this school.

I draw my wand and murmur a complex spell, I'd only learnt yesterday (for some light reading). With a swirl and a couple of blue sparks Vanessa's blonde hair turns an alien lime-green. "Just because you're rich and have some stupid pureblood airs, it does _not_ make you any better than me-" Ashley crumples into a faint and Sophie resembles a gawping fish. Vanessa hasn't quite figured out what has happened to her yet and the Great Hall seems to be holding it's breath in anticipation. I stand up fluidly. Feeling masses of eyes spin my way. I don't care, I'm through with being screwed around and interrupted and… I'm fucking tired of the drama today has brought me. Pocketing my wand, I add with sass: "I'm not Rosie Posie, I'm Rose. You may be older and bitchier than me but don't you dare forget that I have Granger-Weasley fire on my side." I give her a melodramatic blown air-kiss before turning and striding away. As all hell breaks loose behind me and as I hear Vanessa let out a piercing scream- no doubt discovering the new colour of her much beloved hair- I laugh, succumbing myself to the semi-hysterical giggles rising from within.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Good evening fellow readers! I am very sorry that this was not posted yesterday but hopefully my content (and blimey it is A LOT of content- for me at least) makes up for any bad feelings caused. If I had to sum up this chapter in a few words I'd say: embarrassment, mission, revelations and confidantes. I also introduce a few more to the family annnnd thank y'all for reading/reviewing/favouriting/being awesome . Hope you enjoy! :)**

The next day had started off pretty crappy. I may have just knocked Queen Vee off of her pedestal temporarily but that didn't mean I wasn't waist-deep in trouble. After my showdown with the blon- _green-haired-_ witch, I'd hurried to my room and practically collapsed onto my bed. Obviously my upheaval in emotions had triggered literal exhaustion as I slept solidly until I was woken by my alarm at 7am. After I'd battled the bleeping thing, I'd had a row with Diamond and Olivia- taking out some residual frustration on them both from yesterday. I'd felt super guilty when Diamond had spat out how she'd been escorting Olivia down to the infirmary because she'd felt sick. I'd tried apologising but Diamond was (rightfully) pissed at me for throwing our friendship in their faces and going on and on about how they're 'never there for me' and other irritable slurs. My shower had turned ice-cold when I was lathering up. And at breakfast Nick had been chirpily congratulating me for 'putting Vanessa in her place' while I avoided the glare I was receiving from Diamond. Olivia was looking sadly down at her orange juice and I couldn't help but wonder if she's sad that I fell out with Diamond (and by consequence her)this morning, or feeling homesick. I scarfed down my jammy toast and drunk my goblet of pumpkin juice in four swift mouthfuls. I don't hear Nick crack a joke about my appetite. Nor am I aware that Vanessa and Ashley are still seeking hair-care from Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary (as Adelaide proclaims to our table). All I see and care about is the blood-red envelope that's dropped in front of me from the barrage of incriminating object starts to smoke and I gulp. "Oh shit." I mutter, weakly.

The envelope bursts into flames and from the ashes a letter floats magically above. It crumples itself into the shape of a paper mouth and I hardly feel Nick squeezing my hand in his, attuned to my concern. The paper mouth widens and I prepare for the worst. The sound of my father Ron Weasley amplifies across the dining hall and in the brief moment when I'm acutely aware of the attention I'm getting again, I have time to think: _Wow, by this rate, I'm swiftly becoming the most well-known person at Hogwarts._ Sadly, thats all I have time to think before-

"ROSE MINERVA WEASLEY! HOW ON EARTH WERE YOU SORTED INTO SLYTHERIN. IF THIS IS A PRANK I SWEAR THAT YOU ARE IN BIG TROUBLE MISSY." Background noise of faint protests of my mother and Hugo filter through but it is overridden by the next part of my father's speech. "HOWEVER IF THIS IS NOT A PRANK- WELL, UH, BLOODY HELL HERMIONE WOULD'YA LET ME SPEAK TO ROSIE FOR A MINUTE-" Hermione's gentler voice echoes across the room when she says: "ROSE SWEETIE, IT'S OK IF YOU REALLY WERE SORTED SLYTHERIN. ME AND YOUR FATHER UNDERSTAND THAT IT'S NOT ALWAYS EASY STARTING SCHOOL AND WE KNOW YOU'LL DO YOUR BEST NO MATTER WHICH HOUSE-" Ron's bellows drown out the rest of my mother's, undoubtedly sweeter, speech: "I HAVE HALF A MIND TO GO UP THERE MYSELF AND FIX THE SORTING HAT. PERHAPS ALL THOSE CENTURIES ARE FINALLY CATCHING UP WITH THE BARMY THING-" "RON!" "SORRY, LOVE. UM I GUESS I'LL GO NOW. WE'VE TOLD THE REST OF THE FAMILY AND EVERYONE'S SURPRISED...EXCEPT YOUR UNCLE CHARLIE, THAT IS. THEN AGAIN HE ALWAYS PREDICTED STRANGE THINGS FOR YOU KIDS. MUSTA BEEN BURNED BY A DRAGON ONE TOO MANY TIMES." My mother admonishes him again and then Hugo's ten-year-old impish laughter is heard around the room as he yells (making the whole room cover their ears against the volume): "HEY SISSY! I HOPE YOU'RE A SLYTHERIN. THAT'S COOL. DID YOU KNOW THAT SNAKES SMELL WITH THEIR TONGUE- I KNOW YOU CAN'T DO THAT BUT IF YOU DID I WOULDN'T CARE. I LOVE YOU ROSIE, NO MATTER WHAT." And with that the envelope is consumed by crackling flames which disintegrate as the paper descends in a shower of wispy ash. The silence which follows is deafening. I bite the inside of my lip hard. Using the pain and Nick's warm hand closed over mine to ground me, I fight down the horrible urge to bawl my eyes out or to run away. Nick's chocolate eyes beg me to be strong, to take refuge in his grip and forget all those other people watching us. I try to smile. It comes out looking more like a grimace. The clicking of heels alerts me someone is coming towards me. I do not turn. I keep gazing into Nick's eyes and at the residual ashes smeared across my plate. My toast has a very charred-chic look to it with all that soot decorating it.

"Miss Weasley-" the stern voice of Professor McGonagall addresses. "-if you'd like to follow me." I stand and leave the comfort and security found in Nick's embrace. In my peripheral vision Albus stares guiltily at his plate and Kat gives me thumbs up from her seat next to some Ravenclaw friend. I follow the Professor in silence, looking straight ahead to keep from crying. Round and round the halls we walk until eventually we reach the Gargoyle which guards the entrance of the tower.

"Multum in parvo." she recites; the gargoyle jumps aside and a great rumbling shakes the earth as the steps rise from the ground spiralling upwards. I'm lead up these steps to a grand set of heavy oak double doors, which are opened with McGonagall's wandless magic. Portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses peer curiously at the young, red-haired witch entering their home-space. I gaze back just as excited and intrigued. An old man with long silvery white hair and beard and half-moon spectacles smiles fondly at me. I know him from Chocolate Frog cards- as well as old photographs and countless family tales- but it is still a shock to be face-to-face with the portrait of Professor (and legend) Albus Dumbledore.

"Well, hello there." his voice is as welcoming as his smile.

"Wow!"I exclaim, completely entranced by meeting _the_ Albus Dumbledore.

"Wow, indeed." he replies, face youthened by amusement and kindness.

"It's truly a pleasure to meet you. I'm Rose Weasley- child of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." I do an awkward half-curtsy, substituting dress skirts with my usual robes. A portrait- whom I'm later told was of Phineas Nigellus Black huffs loudly.

"Don't mind him," Dumbledore cautions, "He's still a little bitter over never having eaten a sherbert lemon." Nigellus stops rolling his eyes long enough to scoff an exasperated: "For the last time, Albus. I am _not_ envious in the slightest of your favourite sweets. I do not even like sweet morsels, as you very well know." Albus and Nigellus both involve themselves into a lively debate over 'Phineas' soft spot for apple strudel' and the portrait of Severus Snape (in all his black robed, long greasy hair, large hooked nose glory) comments dryly of how 'they're always like this'. I giggle at this and I swear I see a glimmer of gratitude spark in Snape's eyes.

McGonagall's stern voice drags me away from the portraits as she ushers me to a seat. I take the few moments I have to stare down at her ornate and tidy desk, preparing myself for whatever punishment I'm about to get for disrupting the peace (not to mention Vanessa's bright green hair). McGonagall magicks us a trayful spouting a steaming kettle and some teacups. With another delicate flick of her want the entrée dish is joined by a china platter full of plain digestive biscuits. I'm befuddled. _Why was she serving me a cup of tea? Was this her way of readying me for a year's worth of detention. Oh bugger! What would my mother say, if that's the case?_ The professor stirs her both filled teacups, placidly, inquiring politely as

to whether I take any milk or sugar. "Milk please, one sugar." I mumbled, shakily. The tea is strong and the soft brown liquid soothes my throat and settles into my tummy like a warm blanket. I wait for her to speak. Eventually, her thin lips part, voice firm and determined; "Miss Weasley. Tell me all that you know of animagi."

My jaw drops before I regain enough good sense to shut it. It closes with an audible snap.

"An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can morph him or herself into an animal at will. It is a learned, rather than hereditary skill, unlike those of a Metamorphmagus. Information on Animagi is taught to Hogwarts students during their third year Transfiguration class." I recite from memory. Professor McGonagall smiles a little. I'm suspicious but so very much intrigued.

"What is this about Professor? I thought that I was here because of the Howler I was sent. Or the drama I unintentionally caused yesterday lunchtime." Keen eyes peer at me from over sharp wire frames.

"Though no one particularly enjoys hearing a Howler, they are still occasionally sent and there is no way for you to be responsible for your father's' reaction to your sorting. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"As for the drama, I am disappointed in your lack of control and respect for the school rules. Your behaviour was foolish and this is the only warning you will get, as of next time, you will be issued detention."

"I understand." I state, refraining myself from lowering my eyes in shame, trying to recreate a strong yet humble grace. Professor McGonagall sips my tea as I silently ponder her unusual topic of conversation. _Why does she want to discuss animagi?_ I voice my thoughts aloud. A wry smile transforms her thin, petite face.

"What I am about to discuss with you is highly confidential and must be treated with the utmost respect and good sense." I drink this in, sipping my tea to wet my suddenly parched throat. I place the delicate china down onto the saucer with a melodic _chink._ The Headmistress aves a hand to the plate laden with biscuits.

"Take a biscuit, Miss Weasley."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When I emerge from the Head's office my mind is spinning and I feel slightly sweet crumbly taste of biscuits and warm tea combined with the conversation I'd just had fills me with a happy, buoyant glow. I momentarily forget that I've just embarrassed myself in front of the whole school, made enemies with a green-haired witch, rowed with Diamond, upset Olivia and mocked Krum. I'm floating on my own little bubble of happiness and I'd be damned if I let go of it. The trip to Potions takes much shorter than I thought it would and before long I've slid into my seat between Scorpius and Al.

"You look happy." Scorpius states,

"No shit Sherlock." I reply back, my usual snark holding none of the bite which is usually ensnared throughout. Instead it sounds more like friendly teasing, something I'd only do with friends or family. Scorpius opens his mouth to reply when Albus returns to his place. He shifts his eyes away from me and I frown up at him in discontent.

"What's wrong?" I ask, tone gentler than the last time we spoke. After all, he still is my cousin, no matter what he might currently think of me. A cold breeze ripples across the classroom and I shiver. Something's off about my cousin and I'm not entirely sure what. His body is tense with stress and purple shadows lurk under weary-looking eyes. "Al-" Having collected his stuff, he turns and walks away. He moves to the desk with Krum who is talking to Professor Van Der Birg. When Sebastian stands up, my happy bubble pops and the colour drains from my face. I turn to Scorpius, exclaiming "He's not seriously coming here is he?" My question is answered by the stench of some God-awful aftershave and the arrogant leer of my _favourite person._ (Not.) "What are _you_ doing here?" I huff. His books are thrown onto the desk one by one. The reckless abandon he is exhibiting with the poor tomes is increasing my dislike for the boy.

"Sitting next to you, Rosie Posie." he smirks. _I want to smack that sleazy smirk off his face._ I try distract myself by remembering the proposition from earlier from Professor McGonagall. " _I want you to do something- a very tricky and potentially dangerous task for me. I would never have asked unless it was vital." she had said to me. "What's the task?" A long-suffering sigh had been exhaled by the Professor. "I shall get to that later. For now, I was going to put forward an idea which may appeal to you- as a very talented witch and high scoring transfiguration student. It would take a number of years to fulfill and be long, arduous work, so do not take this offer lightly. I was wondering if you'd have any interest in becoming an animagus…"_

"-and what would happen, Miss Weasley?" I startle, dragged out from my recollection by the vaguely nasal questioning of the Dutch Potions Professor. I scan the board, noting each ingredient listed on a very common sleeping draught. My cheeks redden as many eyes swivel my way.

"Could you repeat the question please?" I manage. Krum snickers beside me. I subtly dig an elbow into his side. The daggers he shoots me with his eyes threaten to make me smile. My amusement fades, however when the Professor snarks "If you would spend more of your time listening to what I'm saying instead of acting like an airhead, perhaps you would've heard what I'd just said." My eyes widen and I have to bite my lip to repress the sarcastic comments bubbling up my throat. _What?_ I can't believe he's just called me an airhead when in every other lesson I've been putting my hand up and paying close attention to the class. The grumpy man seems to be ignorant of this as do the stupid Gryffindors who guffaw at me behind their hands. Krum's laugh is the loudest, of course and I briefly entertain the idea of me bludgeoning his other eye on the Quidditch pitch. I remember Professor McGonagall's parting words " _Stay out of trouble Rose, or else I shall retract my offer._ And so I swallow down my rebuttals, force a contrite tone and apologise to the hard-headed Dutch. "Miss Patil, please may you answer the question." Jasmine smiles and replies a long-winded, answer over the properties of Flobberworm mucus; an important ingredient in a standard sleeping draught.

Needless to say that my Potions session only got worse from there. My sleeping draught nearly blew up when I performed the wrong wand work and messed up ingredient measurements, I lost two points from Slytherin for snapping at Krum when Van Der Birg was in earshot and my worry for Albus doubled when he nearly fainted in his stool. I practically sprint to Charms when the bell rings at the end of the lesson. Charms was much better. We had a surprise progression examination in which we performed some basic spells in front of the kind and stout Professor Flitwick. I received top marks for my 'Alohomora' unlocking spell and 'Wingardium Leviosa' (a lifting objects spell my mother taught me) and earned back my lost points for Slytherin. During lunch I seat myself next to Kat at the Ravenclaw table and she cheers me up by recounting how Louis sprouted mouse ears in transfiguration when Alice 'Lissy' Longbottom messed up her spell in double transfiguration earlier that day.

Once my other classes have finished and I'm all done up with my homework I retreat to my dorm room, hoping to make amends with Diamond and Olivia before the day turns sour. Unfortunately, they're both absent from the dorm and instead I find Bethany, who've barely spoken to since school began. Her blonde curls look frazzled and if the iPhone jammed between her ear and shoulder was any sort of hint, I can tell that she's rushing for something. I close the door softly and mooch into my quarter of the room. I sit cross-legged on my pale grey and green comforter and run my fingers over the soft material. I watch curiously as Bethany purses her lips together, listening into her phone. I'm not sure she even notices my presence.

"I understand that ,Ashley, but I also have homework and- no, no of course I'm not undermining your authority, _you know_ that I value our friendship, it's just… Oh? Vanessa said she needed us all gathered tonight, I thought she and Eli were… He did what? Oh poor Nessa… She must feel so heartbroken." Bethany talks into her phone while pulling her assignments out of her satchel, looking down worriedly at the stack of homework she has to complete. Her blonde hair bobs as she nods and mutters coos over, what I can assume, is details over 'Nessa' and Eli's break-up. "So, when you say we're all meeting you mean Nessa, you, Sophie and me, right? Adelaide as well? But she's a _Jordan,_ I thought that her and her family would… No, I'm sorry… Of course it's not my place the question Nessa's judgement... I'll be right over, sure. Bye." She huffs out a breath when she hangs up and stares dejectedly at the phone in her hand. _So_ _ **that's**_ _why Bethany never seems to be here._ I conclude at last. _She and Adelaide have been recruited into bitch central._ Bethany pockets her phone then mutters under her breath about 'stupid homework'.

"It's not stupid," I pipe up, cheerfully. Bethany whirls around wide-eyed. "Homework helps us learn more and further our education without being in a classroom environment."

"When did you get here?" she accuses. I shrug my shoulders, enjoying the irritation my nonchalance causes her. "Why does it matter?" I reflect, smiling. Bethany sighs again, another exasperated exhalation of air. She fluffs up her hair, finger combing the frizzy snarls and points over her shoulder at the stack of essays.

"I just wish homework didn't exist. I didn't suffer through home-schooling as a child only to continue working in what is now my new home." This is news to me. I've never really thought about the big-time, high-standard Slytherin families before- never considered how a wizard-centred life would be like and never imagined what it would be like having to be isolated in your own home with some dusty old tutor because 'tradition' involves staying away from muggle primary schools (or anything muggle for that matter).

"What was that like?" I wonder, aloud. "Home-schooling." Bethany opens her mouth and I honestly think she's going to take the time to properly converse with her roommate but at the last minute she appears to check herself and replies with a cool "I need to get going" instead. She chucks her phone, a bunch of Witch Weekly magazines and Honeydukes' Finest Honeycomb chocolate into her school satchel then flounces out of the room without so much as a backwards glance. This time I sigh, wondering if I'm going to be cursed with people like Nessa and popular-wannabe's like Beth all my life. I curse the Rita Skeeter's and Stephanie Melstrom's in the world for creating such gaps in unity and brandishing columns advising girls and boys alike to strive to be popular and cool and pretty when it matters more when someone is genuine and quirky. At least to me. _Why be a copy of someone when you can be an original?_ My mother used to tell me. I glow at the memory, the little reminder that makes me glad I've had such loving parents as my own. Talking of parents makes me recall the Howler this morning. I feel a little guilty and a bucket-full of embarrassment over dad's reaction. I'm a little offended that he thought I'd lie or 'prank' him over something as serious as my House sorting but I can't help but entertain the thought of my sorting being a spontaneous joke created by the sorting hat. If I was Hugo and the hat had pranked him, he would've jumped from his seat and hollered out 'PSYCHE' before turning and marching over to the Gryffindor table where his predecessing jokers (James and Fred) would've gladly welcomed them into their ranks. I push away my 'what if's', old enough to realise that what's done is done and there's no use dwelling on what cannot be changed. I'm too restless to finish off my D.A.D.A essay on how to conquer Boggarts, which is due in next week and am too restless to finish my current Muggle book which is about a sassy Skeleton Detective and his dark-haired kick-ass apprentice. Tinker pads out from her cat hidey-hole and jumps up onto my bed. I stroke her idly, relaxing against her tiny purrs and fluffy head nudges. She arches her back like the cuddle-monster she is and I say a very apologetic goodbye to her as I leave her and my dorm room behind.

I'm perturbed by the amount of enemies I seem to be making and (combined with the fact I'm on the outs with my roommates), I decide it's about time I try draw some truces between me and what feels like the rest of Hogwarts. I'm lost in thought, not looking where I'm going and so it's no surprise when I turn a corner only to crash into another person. "Watch it!"

I stumble and flail a little, tripping over my own feet and landing on my butt in the middle of the hallway. Burning with embarrassment, I look up from my precarious position into the owl-startled expression of my cousin. Albus. I scramble to my feet, taking his surprise to right myself. "Sorry," he mumbles, attempting to step round me.

"Wait!" I call, grabbing his forearm. "Al, please." He stills, body rigid. He turns slowly to face me and I'm struck by the same observations from earlier. Albus looks like crap. He looks miserable. And, weirdly, I feel responsible for him looking this way.

"Yes, Rose?" he prompts.

"Wh-What happened, Al? Why do you look like-" I gesture emphatically at him. Not sure quite how to finish my sentence without him throwing a hissy fit.

"Rose, I'm seriously tired right now and I really don't need any drama from you as well."

His voice is tight. I peer worriedly into those emerald eyes. They're dulled, dampened by something… Or someone.

"Al-" I hesitate; I don't want to upset him any further. I try to be diplomatic. "Is something bothering you?" Albus' eyes instantly turn hard. His defences rise and I wonder sadly what has happened to the sweet, shy boy I boarded the train with weeks ago. The one who preferred his Nintendo over people and idolised Kat. The boy in front of me is still him, I know it. He's just hiding under this other boy. The purple-eyed zombie who's shuffling around Hogwarts.

"Of course not," he replies, quickly. _A bit too quickly._ "It's just hard getting used to Hogwarts and the studying and stuff."

"You'll get used to it, Al." I reassure, "It'll set in eventually." He smiles at me. I smile back. The moment is nice and hall-marky. Until, Albus' gaze lifts from mine and he spots something from over my shoulder. I spin around, catching sight of the annoying Higgs, Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe makes a rude gesture at me with his hands and I retaliate by sticking winding up my middle finger then acting overly surprised at the sight of it. Goyle and Higgs glare from the sidelines, watching the display. Crabbe grabs one clumsy hand for his wand, then like the idiot he is, drops it onto the floor and has to crouch down to pick it up again. Fortunately, I am much quicker and using my own wand fire a quick stinging hex at him and Higgs. Higgs screeches and hops from foot to foot. Third-year Crabbe winces but keeps most of his dignity intact while doing so. When I turn to Goyle he's already incanting something so I try dodge the bat bogey hex he tries firing my way. I throw back a disarming spell but my aim is off and Crabbe and Higgs are already recovering. I may be quick on my feet and advanced in charms but I'm no third-year. And- I turn round, looking for Albus, who's mysteriously disappeared- _I have no back up._ I set off running down the corridor, plugging my ears against the cackles and taunts of the three Slytherin boys behind me.

I don't stop running til I react the library. The smell of books and ink and musk enfolds around me as soon as I push past the two large doors. I slow my pace and with it my heartbeat. I rake a hand through my unruly red locks, unsurprised to find stray hairs standing upright as though I'm a mad-scientist. Madame Pince eyes me as I walk past her desk and I try look as inconspicuous as possible as I pass the sharp-eyed witch. The tables are all occupied, chairs full of eager Ravenclaws and giggling Hufflepuffs. Some are studying others are passing notes or drawing doodles. Teddy is with two of his friends playing cards in a more secretive alcove. He waves at me as I dawdle past. I wave back. I've always had a soft spot for the blue-haired boy. He was sixteen and was the coolest person I'd ever met. Not textbook-dictionary-defined-cool but the kind of cool which wears a lazy smile and a friendly face. The kind of cool who is edgy without trying, unique because he can wear his flaws on his sleeve instead of trying to cover up his wrongs. He's the kind of cool who changes his hair based off of moods, who doesn't try to be something he's not. His eyes hold pieces of the universe and no matter what shade they are they always gleam with depth and a timeless, unending empathy. I like Teddy and I look up to him a lot. I never understand his relationship with Victoire as to me she seems the downright opposite of him; shallow, materialistic and needy. Dominique, Victoire's sister, also wondered the same as me. Only where I kept my musings to myself, she was much more vocal about it. As you may tell, the two sisters did _not_ get along.

Anyway, I pass Teddy and his two card buddies and venture onwards for a spare place. I pass another group, this one showcasing a mixture of girls and boys who are debating in hushed tones about something. As the snoop I am, I can't help but inch myself closer, pretending to be flicking through a random book I nabbed off of the closest bookshelf. I recognise some of the students as first-years. Charlotte Delacour is arguing with one of the older Lovegood twins over something written in the Daily Prophet;

"They are saying that a few muggle-born families have been going missing, recently." she whispers. Lorcan- the more outspoken of the identical twins- points out that: "People go missing all the time, Charlie. Just because they have magical kids, doesn't mean they're being targeted."

"But all those rumours." Maisie points out, frowning "They must stem from somewhere…" George Stooks, a second-year (' _Most likely to become the next Minister of Magic' Kat had pointed out to me one time while we were chilling in her common room.)_ slings a comforting arm around her shoulders. "You forget, Maisie dear, that until proven valid rumours are only whispers passed from mouth to mouth. Don't let gossip cause you distress where none is due." His voice and tone are logical and soothing; Maisie looks at him and nods in agreement.

"Some rumours are true, though." Charlotte persists, twiddling her thumbs in slight unsettlement. She drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Just the other day I heard that Vile Vanessa was recruiting more members into her girl gang in some elaborate plot to do a full-on elimination of all the muggle-borns or blood-traitors in Slytherin!" A round of muttering and gasps commence at the end of her speech.

"Please don't call then that, Charlie." Maisie pleads, "You know I hear enough of that rubbish when I'm at the Manor." Charlotte squeezes her arm sympathetically and George hugs her closer. "Sorry, Maisie." Charlotte murmurs, "I was being too blunt again, wasn't I?" "Don't worry about it." the Hufflepuff Parkinson replies.

"Returning to what you just said," Lorcan continues, cobalt eyes wide and aware, "There's no way Cruella can 'eliminate' people from her own House, no matter how powerful and rich her mother is." Logan Zabini, Diamond's dark-skinned brother, contributes with

"Although she could not physically eliminate her Housemates, I don't underestimate the damage she could inflict emotionally on her peers. Don't you guys remember what happened last year between her and that Weasley girl?" This piques my interest.

"What happened?" Charlotte inquires when the table take too long to explain. Weirdly, it is the quiet Scamander twin to speak. Lysander Scamander, the studious boy who shared many traits with his mystical mother- Luna Lovegood. His voice is subdued and tranquil when he speaks:

"Vanessa used to be best friends with a Weasley, believe it or not. They bonded in year seven despite them being sorted into different houses and being from completely different families. They called themselves the Double Vee Queens. Both were stunning blondes, straight A students and completely power-driven. Victoire Weasley and Vanessa Melstrom were inseparable. At least that's what everyone had presumed. In year seven they both went through some tough hurdles: dealing with their mother's disdain for the other- you see, Stephanie is still big on all that pureblood Slytherin stuff whereas the Weasley's have always adopted a more carefree and accepting lifestyle. The House rivalry was fierce at the time due to the Quidditch season and they had to deal with a lot of hate from both of their Houses while still ruling the school. Victoire was obsessed with becoming a famous model, putting her Veela heritage to good use, and Vanessa held the keys to her success. People say that Vanessa merely craved the comfort of having a girl so similar to her that they could be sisters. Others propose Vanessa from eleven upwards only was friends with Victoir for the benefits of having a high-scoring Gryffindor companion whom she could steal notes off of and reap gossip from to use in case anyone got too mouthy. By year eight they had gained power, not only through their 'go big or go home' strategy and ruthless bitchiness but also through the advice of our current Head Girl Marissa. She also held a lot of strings at the time and everyone either feared or loved the Slytherin vixen…" Lysander trails off in thought as though reflecting on the past between the two feuding girls. It suddenly makes much more sense to me: _I could make you famous, you know." Vanessa had baited, "Me and my mum could turn your insignificance into something even the upper-class Slytherin purebloods could respect and admire."_ Vanessa's words had been based off of an earlier encounter. A friendship that had been forged between her and Victoire two years ago. A friendship which had entailed them becoming best friends through future ambition, shared interests and the desire for power. " _Victoire was obsessed with becoming a famous model, putting her Veela heritage to good use, and Vanessa held the keys to her success."_

The table is rapt, all listening closely to Lysander's dreamy words, ensnared within the theatre he is painting with his words.

"What happened?" Maisie asks, her tone saddened, no doubt remembering the use of past tense. Lysander clears his throat, looking self-conscious at the attention he was receiving. Regardless, he finishes the tale: "Nearing the end of their second year both girls made one crucial mistake; falling for the same guy. Victoire began to realise her deeper feelings for Teddy, the metamorphmagus she had seen around at family gatherings at the Burrow or Potter residence. Meanwhile, Vanessa's love hit her hard and fast and she quickly became fixated on her newfound crush. Being as close as they were, they shared everything with one another. When Victoire realised Vanessa's feelings she withheld her own feelings and encouraged her friend to pursue said feelings. It was a messy affair between the three, which involved far too many shedded tears, vindictive plots and stolen kisses for most people's liking. In the end, Vanessa lost both her best friend and her crush. Her mother took Vanessa's vulnerability to turn her into a frostier witch than she used to be and as she became solo she turned much more anti-Gryffindor, anti-Weasley, anti-love and started fooling around with a long succession of boys to fill her wounded ego and bleeding heart. Vanessa got Prince Charming but lost her inter-house respect and now is more known for her Gryffindor Princess role than her once-threatening demeanor." There is a silence and in the quiet, I slip away from my shadowed alcove and venture further onwards, lost in thought. The story forces me to think on Victoire on her past adventures and despite my best interests I feel a pang of pity for both girls. I reach a chair and I sink into it. I barely look at who else I'm with. Until one of them drags me from my stupor with the lilting accent I've become way too familiar with.

"Are you alright, Rose? You look rather faint." a French accent drawls. My eyes glance up from the table, flickering between Kieran Black and Scorpius Malfoy.

"I'm-I'm fine." I mutter, quietly. Kieran makes his move on the Wizards chess that they are both playing. I'm half-surprised that Madam Pince hasn't kicked them both out yet, considering the collateral noise the mini-figures create. Scorpius doesn't even spare the chess game so much as a glance. He is too busy searching my expression. Whatever he finds makes his eyes darken slightly. "What's wrong?" he asks me. I consider lying to him, telling him weak statements such as 'I'm tired' or 'I'm just hungry,' but I really don't have the energy to muster up yet another defence. I feel slightly unhinged from me shattered impression of Victoire; sure she's still a bitch, but now I know she has roots which triggered mastering the art of meanness to such a precision. She was best friends with a Slytherin. She was best friends with _Vanessa Melstrom._

Along with this current revelation, I'm still reeling from my blood-red Howler, the animagus proposition, being seated next to obnoxious Krum, Bethany's recruitment to the Mean Girls clique, Albus' misery and the trio of douchebags duelling match. I'm usually great at keeping stuff to myself, an excellent secret keeper and if need be- the perfect liar. But with concerned silver eyes and the quiet solitude of the farthest table I'm tucked into, I can't help but release the events as though under the effects of the truth serum (Veritaserum). My dialogue is in no shape eloquent but at least it's painfully honest: "To be honest everything and nothing is wrong. My Howler makes me one of the most infamous student and it's only just October. Atop of that McGonagall's encroached me into something which I'm not even sure as to the extent of its danger nor what it involves, I only know of the rewards. I'm possibly going to fluke Potions because Krum has it out for me and won't stop acting like a complete tool. Albus is hiding something serious from me and it's making me, like, super worried cos despite him being a prick over my sorting he's still one of my closest cousins and talking of cousins I just found out some of the history of Victoire and Vanessa and I've also fallen out with Diamond cos I was being a cranky witch this morning and…" I huff out an irritated sigh, "As well as having to watch out for the bitch squad I also must keep an eye on Crabbe and co. cos I kind of…. Accidentally started a duel with him. So yeah…" Kieran looks shocked. Scorpius looks bemused.

"I knew that my prediction would come true," Scorpius flashes a crooked half-smile, "I told you, Rose that you would make this an interesting year. It's only the second month of school and you're already turning the high and mighty into green-haired, revenge-thirsty monsters. You've aggravated three school bullies, publically defended a House you used to, and possible still do, hate. And been granted a special and dangerous mission by the Headmistress herself." Kieran laughs at this, throat husky with amusement. Scorpius joins in and eventually so do I.

"What's next?" Kieran wonders aloud when we calm down a little. I shug, thinking along the same lines. _What was coming next… ?Only time would tell..._


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Yayy! I actually published this when I said I would *whoop whoop*(don't worry I've actually decided to stick to my schedule that I'd update every Wednesday and Sunday). Hello all you new readers/old readers! This chapter is a little fluffy but there is about to be some MAJOR foreshadowing to do with- actually, because this is after all an adventure fic (and I'm evil ;) *muahahaha*) I'm gonna just let that hang. Just in case you don't know this story is spread across Rose's entire Hogwarts experience so the plot is a tad slow-going (although I have so many sub-plots I'm practically buzzing with excitement). Anyhow, pumpkin pastries to y'all and I hope you enjoy!**

Kieran's question of 'what was coming next' was very hard to answer. And as the October leaves grew into November winds and darker nights my life didn't seem to change all that much. I had made up with Diamond and Olivia, with lots of hugs and chocolate. We binge-watched muggle TV Shows, on Kat's old laptop in our free time, such as: Doctor Who (" _Woah, Muggles sure have funny ideas of time travel." Olivia had remarked in amazement)_ and Pretty Little Liars (" _I'm sick of this bloody A, business! Isn't it obvious?" I'd exclaimed halfway through the first season. I'd been promptly shushed by three irate girls.)._ Along with the Netflix episodes (one watched every other night (Mondays, Wednesday and Fridays); so we all stay on top of homework and other activities. I also connected more with Kieran and Scorpius but in a very different way. With the two secretive Slytherins, I would find them in the most shadowed nooks of the library or passageways, often sitting across from one another playing a game of wizards chess or playing Hangman. If I was ever stressed or my emotions were becoming a little too volatile, I'd often find myself wandering the stone hallways to sit with my knees pulled up to my chest and my back against a wall as I watch them play or listen to their soft murmurs. With my girl friends I found fun and excitement, whereas with the boys I was at peace and could seek solitude. They rarely questioned me nor I them. It was by unspoken agreement that we would only talk where necessary and not use vanilla words to cover the silence. I kept these meetings a secret; not because I felt it was shady or strange, merely I felt protective over those precious moments and didn't wish to taint them with sharing our secret place.

Charms and D.A.D.A brought out a competitive streak from within me, as did the odd Quidditch match here and there. I love Quidditch- the feeling of the breeze through my hair, massaging my scalp and filling my lungs with that sharp cleanse that shortens your breath and de-clutters your mind. The height always made my stomach kick; it was exhilarating, it was incomparable, it was… Freedom. History of Magic I aced. Herbology I got average marks- mainly because I never could summon up the same excitement for plants as I could with magic. Professor Longbottom was a cool teacher, with skinny jeans and authentic bracelets and a relaxed hipster kind of attitude. Potions was the one I struggled with. My grades were great in the theory section,but practicals always seemed to turn out in me being sent away for 'bad behaviour'. Stupid Krum. It was his fault- at least, in part. I continued to write to my parents throughout late November, early December and me and Alice kept in close contact as well. She was always eager to hear of the newest class drama or magic spell learnt. When I told her that the older kids took stuff like 'Care of Magical Creatures' then went on to describe some of them, she told me she'd nearly fainted. I never approached Victoire about her past nor did Vanessa ever approach me, which I found suspicious considering our last encounter. The only recognition Queen Vee spared me was the odd sneer and bitchy comment. I'd had a few run-ins with Crabbe, Goyle and Higgs but I'd always manage to slip away with the most minimal of damage caused meanwhile my own wand work left them (usually Higgs) gasping for breath. No more Howlers were sent my way nor were any more meetIngs between me and Professor McGonagall drawn up. When, I had inquired mid-November, she had told me that she would 'contact me when my services were needed'. I read up on animagi and I couldn't help but feel a little impatient of my wait until I was requested for service by the Head herself. I kept out of trouble, for the most part and my grades were pretty good, all in all.

December brought with it bitterly cold winds and snowball fights. Hot chocolate and snuggling under light-green quilts in the Slytherin Common room. The dungeons had to have several warming charms cast to prevent the temperatures dropping too low and Marissa's Prefect minions would dutifully patrol the entryway arch with hot beverages to supply younger ones with comfort. I loved the wintertime. I always have, even as a young child. I love watching the trees shed their dappled tiger orange, shamrock green and chartreuse leafy dresses and bare their spindly bodies to the world. The snowflakes would differ between pouring down in a helixed blizzard or waltzing elegantly to be caught upon your tongue. I tried avoiding Sebastian Krum and his side-kicks but it was like fighting against a wall: pretty damn impossible. It appeared the more I made snarky comments or snapped at him the greater he would smile and the more he would talk to me. I'd whooped him multiple times in Quidditch but his team had also gotten stronger and now we were sharing around equal scores. He was equally as stubborn about admitting defeat and ,despite Scorpius' warnings, I would take the sweetest joy from delivering smooth sneak attacks and directing bludger's at him. I didn't play nice; but then again, I played as I always have; to win.

The day before we were supposed to break up for Winter Break, I found myself pacing my dorm room, in nervousness. Diamond flicks through the pages of a _Witch Weekly_ magasine, comparing some of the newest Robe fashions with Olivia splayed out next to her. Up and down I pace. I chew my lip. _How are my parents going to react when they see me? After the Howler, perhaps it would be best to stay away from Dad? And what about Hugo? He'll be starting school in my third year! What if he gets picked on because of my house? Or worse… What if my cousins turn him against me? My young, sweet brother… Hating me. Being disgusted in me- it would be awful- I don't think I could deal with the same treatment Al used on me. And what if-_

"Rose! Would you give it a rest, already?" Diamond scorns, eyes flickering between the twirling models and my erratic movements. I pause, wringing my hands together.

"I can't." I blurt, "I need to move. It helps me."

"With what?" Olivia asks, not unkindly. I wave at my half open trunk which is spilling books and clothes over its gaping mouth.

"With going home, I jus- I don't know what they're gonna be like now that I'm a Slytherin."

Olivia shoots me a sympathetic look. Diamond rolls her eyes.

"Don't be a wuss," she says. "They'll just have to deal that you're on of us now. This is your house, screw what other people think of it." The tough love helps me a little. It relaxes me fractionally but all the same I feel that I should perhaps go cool off someplace else…

"I'm gonna go take a walk." I meander off to half-interested goodbye's following me out the room. In the common room I spot Nick in deep discussion with a Ravenclaw brunette. She's pouting and shouting while he appears to be discussing and compromising. Despite my craving for fresh air I walk towards them both, letting my curiosity decide my path.

"It's not _fair._ " The Ravenclaw girl whines. Nick's chocolate eyes are devoid of his usual kindness. "Why do I have to go? Can't you just tell them both that I'm invited to Charlotte's for the holidays?" she continues. Nick sighs wearily.

"Genevie, that's enough. You know why we have to go. We have to meet her, we can't keep putting it off." Nick responds. His voice contains undertones of warning. I inch closer, nearing the arguing pair in fascination. I know that it's rude to eavesdrop but I've never seen Nick even remotely het up about anything since I've met him so it's extremely strange to see him like this now. With someone he's obviously quite close to, yet never been mentioned before. The girl tosses her hair in irritation.

"Yes we can. If we 'cry wolf' before tomorrow there might still be time to duck out. After all, she could never compensate for what we already have. It's _her_ fault they broke up in the first pla-"

"You keep talking but all I hear is Moaning Myrtle." Nick drawls cruelly.

"Nick-"

"Go complain about your woes to someone who actually cares, Gen. And while you're at it you best learn some manners. If I don't see you on the Hogwarts Express I swear by Salazar's tongue that mum will hear of it." _Wait, what? What are they talking about?_

"You wouldn't." Her voice wavers with doubt. Tears glisten in her eyes. A few overflow and splash onto her pale cheeks.

"Wouldn't I?" Nick's smile is as sharp as glass. And just as dangerous. The girl runs from the room bawling and I turn to gape after her in astonishment.

"You heard all of that, didn't you?" Nick's voice trails out from behind me. I spin around meeting his eyes which have lost their meanness and now just look sad. I nod. He extends a hand and I don't even hesitate when I thread my fingers though his, squeezing lightly in empathy. He pulls me over to the far right-corner of the Slytherin commons. We reach an expansive lush couch with charcoal grey cushions and a forest green base colour. He sits close to me, still holding my hand and for some reason I feel no urge to remove it from his. Perhaps because there have been countless times he has held my hand or squeezed my shoulder when I was feeling stressed. Perhaps because earlier this month it was he who helped me when I was sick. My vision fades as the memory re-materialises around me…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _I'm in my bed, snuggled up beneath the duvet. Yesterday I'd had a blinding migraine because after second period we'd had to work with screeching Mandrakes and my earmuffs had a failed to smother their inhumane cries. By the time classes had ended I'd been seeing stars and had to stagger to my dorm for some much-needed sleep. I'd slept through the evening meal and was still curled up and snoozing. A soft voice had lulled me back to consciousness. Stabs of pain like knives pierced my mind and I winced multiple times before I could decipher who was talking to me._

" _Nick?" I croaked out. He peers down at me, worriedly and clenches something tightly in his hand. "Hey," he greets. My sluggish mind flails around and fragmented information and questions attack me._

" _Wait, what time is it? How are you here?" I fret. I sit up but slump back down again when a fresh wave of mental agony drags me under. "Shit!" I exclaim. His hand pins my forearm down- a silent plea for me to stay still and calm. I do as he wishes and wait impatiently for him to tell me what's going on._

" _Don't worry, I have permission to be up here. When you didn't go down for dinner last night and Olivia saw you passed out in your room, she ran to the Hospital wing to ask for some help. I saw Olivia in the hallway and went with her and the medi-witch to see if you were alright. Madam Pomfrey lifted the no-boys charm temporarily because she knew that we were close. You couldn't be wakened by her or Madam Pomfrey and each time you were lifted- either physically or by magic- you'd start screaming in your sleep. It was-" he rakes a hand through his messy hair, "-awful. You scared all of us. I was allowed to come over and we've both been excused from classes for the day so that I could give you your pain potions and escort you to the infirmary personally." I absorb all this through my throbbing pain._

" _I think I just have a migraine," I admit aloud. "I've never had one quite this bad but after the sound of those-" I shudder in memory of the blasted plants, "-bloody mandrakes, I'm not all that surprised." Nick frowns and opens his mouth as if to protest my self-diagnosis but reconsiders when I grit my teeth against a fresh wave of pain._

" _Here." he says, pressing a cool bottle into my palm. The bottle feels like a breath of fresh air against my flushed skin. "It's pain potion," Nick adds hurriedly when he catches my confused look. I upturn the bottle, opening my cracked lips and guzzling down the medicinal liquid. The sharp tinge of menthol and (weirdly enough) grass and chalk slides down my throat. The gloopy stuff almost makes me gag and I use a trick Dominique taught me one time (when I ate too many viennese swirl pastries) which stops my gag reflex. I merely curl my thumb down across my palm and squeeze my other four fingers down over it._

" _Ugh." I shudder in disgust. "Please tell me you brought something to cover the taste." Although I'm complaining against the vile substance I'm still grateful for it. Already the darkened haze at the edges of my vision is receding and the liquid works a bit like a pepper-up potion, boosting my energy levels. Nick smiles, relaxing fractionally as my voice grows stronger. "Of course I did." he announces, whipping out his wand and muttering a quick revealing charm. Behind him is a small service-food cart laden with fresh fruit, pumpkin juice and triangular-cut sandwiches._

" _Woah, Nick. What's the occasion?" I say in awe. "How did you even get all this stuff?" Nick smiles sheepishly at me, telling me of him asking the elves in the kitchen if they could proffer up some breakfast goods for his 'sick friend'. "Aww." I beam at him, cautiously sitting up and smiling wider when I realise that I can. "That's so sweet." I hug him in earnest then shuffle from my bed to survey the goods. Popping a grape in my mouth I thank him again. A blush blooms across his cheeks and I'm amused by how he's reacting upon my thanking him._

 _He rakes a hand through his hair lowering his eyes as though to hide his pink face. I smother a giggle while I tuck into fresh strawberries._

" _No coffee?" I notice aloud. Nick tuts at me. His smile is smug when he speaks._

" _Coffee stunts your growth Rose. And caffeine does not help headaches."_

" _Fair enough," I shrug, helping myself to a goblet of juice._

 _The rest of the day was spent with us both chatting over school and doing small magic competitions, showing off the newest charms and practises we'd learnt. I'd freshened up by the time Diamond and Olivia had returned- my teeth had been rushed and my red curls drawn into a ponytail- yet I'd only changed from yesterday's school uniform to my pyjamas. Both girls had offered their notes to me. I eventually decided on Diamond's (; she had the neatest handwriting). The day had passed smoothly and after a couple more rounds of those horrible-tasting potions I was as right as rain..._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"The girl you just saw is my sister, Genevie. She's spoilt and stuck-up and stupidly smart but I still love her. Because she's my sister I avoid talking to her, because whenever I do it always ends with her crying. And I truly hate it when girls cry."

"A Ravenclaw, huh? I always thought you'd be a Gryffindor, following your namesake."

"You're not the only one who veered from their parents legacy," Nick murmurs, eyes solemn. I quieten at this. "The argument was about your parents wasn't it?" I whisper. He nods. And exhales, looking for all the World like Atlas- the Titan who, in Greek mythology was condemned to hold the sky for all of eternity. I re-divert my attention from Greek mythology to listen to Nick:

"My parents are getting a divorce. My dad fell head over heels for this other woman while she was publishing an article over The Falmouth Falcons; the Quidditch team he's been coaching for the past ten years. Before that he played professionally for Chudley Cannons, yet quit after a few years due to their incompetence in following the Manager's orders. And the rules… Anyway, he met my mother during one particular World Cup season and they've been married for ten years. Just last year, the year my sisters and I turned ten, my parents started having some problems. My mum, Tana Ollivander, was always upset by how little time dad spent with me and my sisters. In return, Dad would always complain that he'd given up playing the sport he loved the most to have more time available for the family. As well as all that, my mum also had ambitions of opening her own arts and crafts shop, branching off from her Great-uncle's wand shop and making a business of her own. Dad discouraged her, saying she needed someone to mind the kids and because his job paid too much and was too dear to him, she'd have to put such fantasies on hold. My mum, as you can probably guess, was not happy by this reluctant waiting. Last May was the breaking point when Dad met… Her. The woman my sister adamantly refuses to spend this Christmas with. Genevie is the oldest of us and seems to be taking the divorce much harder than me and 'Rella. What she doesn't realise is that eventually, regardless of the battle over custody, she's gonna have to face up to Dad and his new woman sooner or later. I think that sooner would be best. For all of us."

He pauses and I squeeze his arm, wishing there was something- _anything-_ I could say to take away the sadness and discomfort in those warm, brown eyes. I feel really sorry for him, for what he's had to go through. I can't imagine my own parents being apart. Or even arguing that much for that matter. Whenever Ron and Hermione row, Ron 'nips out' and my mother tends to bake. Or throw herself into her work. I don't linger on my parents though, it feels wrong to analyse my own when Nick's sat in front of me looking so disheartened I want to cry. I don't usually cry, even as a clutz I usually grit my teeth against pain and carry on. But right now my eyes feel dry and I know that I have to do something before he sees the pity in my eyes. He needs someone to be strong for him right now, someone to comfort him in his time of need, I think.

I shuffle closer to him and slowly wrap him into a hug. His body stiffens at first but after a few moments he relaxes and seems to sag against me. His back is strong and warm under my touch and when he buries his face in my hair, I feel my heart skip a little inside my chest. His heart thumps against mine through his robes and I feel a happy glow settle over the two of us. After a couple of minutes, Nick disentangles himself, shyly laughing.

"What?" I question him, bemused.

"It's just you really are amazing Rose." he tells me, locking his eyes with mine. I'm not sure why but the honest compliment makes me feel a little out of sorts. His gratitude feels too… Too _everything_ for my muddled mind. I manage a shaky laugh and try cover up my feeling with a familiar egotistical remark.

"Sure I am," I dramatise, "And don't you forget it!" With a grand flourish, I stand, and give a melodramatic courtesy. Nick rolls his eyes, still smiling.

"Oh dear," he says, "Could you possibly be more cocky?"

"What was that, my steed? Are you now calling me out on my flawless flaming locks of hair and my impeccable grace." I do a twirl. Mid-twirl I crash into Olivia, knocking the both of us off of our feet and landing on the hard marble floor in a tangle of threshing limbs. Olivia screams an Italian swear word during our landing and I must say my bashed elbow and sprained ankle hurts like a bitch. I clamber off of her, apologising profusely and offering a hand for her to get up. Olivia dusts off her freshly pressed uniform ( _darn, how did her uniform always look freshly put together while mine resembled an elephant's skin?)_ and forgives me. When she walks away, I catch the look on Nick's face. His mouth is deadpanned but his eyes… They practically _radiate_ mischief and amusement. I'm well aware of the irony. It's hard not to.

"Impeccable grace, huh?" he re-iterates. I narrow my eyes.

"Shut up."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Yay! Sticking to my schedule (although I'm cutting it fine at this time). I'm quite sad today so y A/N is gonna be brief. Firstly thank you to all those beautiful, wonderful readers. I wish you all butterbeers and chocolate frogs! :) This chapter (as a sneak preview) mostly contains/can be summarised as: dreams, family conflict and choosing sides. Intrigued? Happy reading...**

Do you ever have those days where you just don't want to wake up? Where you want to hide from the world under a cocoon of blankets and pretend that you can't feel the morning light filtering its way into your den? You just want _five more minutes_ of the blissful nothingness sleep provides you with. The dreams paling reality to washed-out colours and the bland but safe comfort of living. In your dreams you could be flying, sprinting on an adventure, collecting clues of a mystery until your lightbulb moment hits and a silly little grin appears above dream-you's head. Sadly, I was not one of these fortunate souls having good, idle dreams then submitting the day to laziness and dream-worlds. My nighttime had been lead by fear. Fear fuelled everything about my dream so much so that I could practically see the raincloud above my head this morning and literally see the tears which were dampening my pillow. There's a famous quote by John Lennon that my grandmother (who's a fan) told me: "I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?" It's true- the mind is a priceless tool which can be used both for and against us at times. It is dreams of the future which trigger aspirations into reality. It can be the seed of doubt- much like Iago mentally poisoned Othello- which also can drive men and women to wickedness and sin. And it was a dream that I was contemplating on my Hogwarts carriage back to King's Cross Station for the Christmas break…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _I'm walking, walking, walking. Continuously down a blank empty space. I reach a house through the blankness and it towers above me like a ginormous beast. Its broken glass windows glare at me and its mouth gapes open like the doorway to hell. The brick is mouldy, decaying and expansive. It used to be great once. Now it just looks vengeful and sad. Like a bitter old woman who was jilted at the altar. Once loved; now rejected. I approach the house. When I take my first step onto the porch Albus appears where the door gapes wide open. Dark circles ring his eyes and he's stripped to his underwear, wounds oozing blood. Drip. Drip. Drip. The blood falls onto the wood and he opens his mouth in a silent scream. I try run to him but my feet are stuck. I look down but they're invisibly paralysed onto that same wooden step._

 _Tears stream down Albus' cheeks. His eyes roll back into his head. His tears come faster, and darken as they do. Until eventually no longer is he crying salt water but blood._

" _Al!" I scream, "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry!" My words stutter to a stop as a sob claws its way up my throat. I can't breathe and I can hardly see through my own blurry vision. When one tear drop- only one- is shed I can see again. Instead of the scene I just saw with the house and Albus, my parents are standing there ahead. It feels like a knife wound when I see their faces. Ron's expression is contorted into an ugly hard look and his contempt makes me feel very, very small of a sudden. Hugo is half-hidden behind Dad, clutching his trousers as if terrified of me. "Don't let her hurt me," he begs Dad, eyes upturned fretfully to meet Dad'. His voice wavers, "I don't want to die from the bite of a snake." I'm aghast, Wh-what does he mean? Surely, he's not talking about me? One look into those baby blue eyes and I know that it's so much worse than I thought. He's_ _ **petrified**_ _of me. It hits me like a stab to the gut. My mother's expression only twists the knife deeper. My skin pops with what looks like green scales which are multiplying all across my body. I try move but I'm still frozen solid._

 _Mum looks disparagingly at me. She hardly speaks but what she does say hurts more than had she have just turned and walked away. "You are no daughter of mine."_

" _Nooo" I try to say, "But I thought you loved me!" All that escapes my lips is a weird hissing sound. Albus appears at Hermione's shoulder. He's still bleeding freely and looks a little faint. He gestures at me then sneers: "See! She even speaks Parseltongue. Trust Rose to be a snake. A slimy horrible snake!"_

" _You don't understand." I hiss. Parseltongue garble escapes my lips. I'm shrinking. Transforming into the loathed creature right before my family's eyes. Down,down,down. I shrink. My vision is meandered by a funny lightness. Am I dying? Am I dead? I think as the light grows stronger. Now only Albus remains and I crane my serpentine neck to watch him. I'm quivering in fear of whatever he has to say. I expect more harsh words or accusation. Instead he whispers, brokenly: "Where were you, Rose? Where were you when I needed you the most?" And then everything goes black._

 _Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

I'd had the dream last night and now I was on edge. I'd heard quite a lot about dreams. How they can be prophetic or unveil what our subconscious is trying to tell us. It intrigued me greatly and I try mentally balance whether I should buy a Dream Dictionary instead of my yearly-updated book on Quidditch. I'm broken from my thoughts by the other two occupants of my carriage- Kat and Scorpius- who are arguing loudly. Diamond was staying at Hogwarts over the holidays with her brother Logan and Olivia, being the kind person she was, had pushed aside her homesickness to keep her company. I, on the other hand, had more selfish reasons to stay (such as avoiding the family, especially after last night's dream) but my mum had threatened 'boot camp' during the summer holidays if I didn't get my butt back home. And so here I found myself sat in the carriage back with the two going at it like they were politicians on General Election day.

"I hate you." Kat mutters at Scorpius. He smirks at her smugly.

"You're only mad 'cause you _know_ it's true." he replies, calmly. The French accent lilts a little condescendingly and I barely have time to caution "Uh oh," before Kat full-on explodes at him.

"What the heck do you know Scorpius? Who died and made you their ruler? You're such a- ugh, you're such a prick!"

A tense silence settles over the two and I bat my eyes between them wondering what had happened now. "What's this all about?" I voice aloud. The cousins both open their mouths and I hold up one hand, pausing them both. "Kat, you first." Kat shoots Scorpius a haughty look; he looks back with a nonchalant patience.

"Every year I spend christmas with the Malfoy's. My parents make me wear some god-awful dress and we have do all these fancy-shmancy stuff. Meanwhile our parents chat over 'serious matters' while sipping Amello wine." I flip my palm out as if to say 'That's it?" and she shakes her head: no. "Our parents-" she waves a hand at Scorpius with a scowl, "-are quite...Traditional. We have rather antiquated systems when dealing with most important events. For example burials are dramatic with large banners and weather shifts, they are classy affairs which end with private grief and magical commemorations."

"Kat-" Scorpius frowns, "You're veering from the point." Kat sighs an irritated puff of air. "What I'm trying to say is that at one ball in particular- the most elegant and important- the eldest or single child has to take the first dance in front of everyone else. Scorpius was commenting on how I might be paired with Baxter Higgs. You know the one, the coward who sucks up to Crabbe and Goyle and acts like a complete doofus." I shudder in revulsion thinking of the scrawny coward. _No wonder she was so upset._

Scorpius hides his laugh with a very false sounding cough.

"Probably," he states, smugly- "You'll probably be paired with him. You said might although we both know he has a little bit of a thing for you." Metaphorical steam comes bursting from Kat's ears. My self-preservation kicks in and I try divert the squabbling two by asking Scorpius:

"Who are you going to go with?"

"Maisie Parkinson." he smiles, "I it too clichéd for me to say that she's the lesser of the many evils."

"Maisie's not evil." I scorn, "Don't make accusations based on her family alone. You're hardly one to talk." Scorpius' smile contains a dangerous edge. It reminds me of Van Der Birg's callous smirk before he sets an avalanche of homework for us to complete.

"Rose, when are you going to drop your naivety. It may come across as optimism right now-" he leans across his side. His cool breath stirs the hair framing my face. "-but trust me, once your little bubble has popped, _then_ come talk to me about hypocrisy and family." I blanche in confusion. _What the heck does that mean? When my 'bubble' has popped? Is he implying I'm ignorant! My grades suggest otherwise, so take_ _ **that**_ _you snob._

A knock on the window startles us both. Kieran's grey eyes survey the scene and a lazy upturns his lips.

"Ah, Scorpius. I knew you'd be in the carriage with the most discordance."

"Interesting. Are you sure you didn't just peer in through the glass?" he points out.

"That as well." Kieran grins. He leaves the carriage with Scorpius following close behind and I'm finally alone with Kat again. I want to ask her whether she thinks that I'm as naive as Scorpius made out but I can sense the turmoil she's dealing with herself and I decide it's best to keep my trap shut for once and give her some space to cool down. I open my satchel and pull out my earphones and my kind of dodgy phone. Rummaging through my bag I find a stick of Weasley-created all-flavour gum. Chewing to lower my nerves I lose myself into some generic pop songs on my playlist. I stare out of the window, hoping against all hope that my dreams (or more accurately _nightmares)_ don't somehow turn into reality.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When the train screeches chugs its way into the station Lorde is mid-way into her chorus in my earphones and Kat looks marginally calmer than she did when in Scorpius' presence. I close down my music app and gather the books and knick knacks which are spread across my side of the carriage. I bundle up _A History of Magic_ with _Little Women._ I'm not picky when it comes to books: muggle or not, each contains the magical power only words can truly inspire. I also have the addresses of some of my new friends so I can send some letters during my time away. The noise of students pushing and laughing and teasing one another floats in from the hallway and I nearly throw my satchel onto my shoulder, smiling gratefully at Kat who's waiting for me at the carriage door. Taking a deep breath I slide it open and join the hubbub. Stepping onto the platform flares up the memory of me stepping onto that blasted house and I try expel the horrid thought from my mind. Through the crowd I spot the entire motley crew. Uncle Percy lectures a bored-looking Hugo. Aunt Audrey seems absorbed into a conversation with her daughter Molly over her schooling and Molly keeps glancing behind Lucy at Lorcan Scamander. Luna's platinum blonde hair is being braided by Victoire who- loathe I admit it- is _brilliant_ at doing French braids. Or any braids, for that matter. Lily twirls round and round as Lucy admires her cousin's new ballet shoes. Fred and James are rapt with uncle George's newest invention. I weave my way closer to them but then, remembering I'm not alone, I turn to check where Kat's heading. Her eyes are directed to the left of my Weasley crew where a woman with dark brown hair in a simple french chignon awaits. She wears a freshly laundered skirt suit and- upon closer observation I see the glint of a large, rather garish ring, on one of her middle fingers. Her nail polish is black. Kat turns to me and gives me a strained smile.

"I guess this is where we say goodbye." she chokes out. I wrap her in a hug, already feeling a little Kat-shaped hole worm its way in my heart. "It's not goodbye; it's just a 'see you later alligator'" I insist. Kat laughs. _Is it just me, or does Kat seem close to crying?_ I worry to myself.

"You're so weird." she states, affectionately. "But I love you anyway." This gets through to me and I melt a little at the praise. "Love you too." I grin at my BFF. She disentangles herself from the hug. "Thanks." she says. Her breath steadies and she appears to swallow down the lump in her throat.

"What for?" I ask, bemusedly.

"For giving me strength." Her back turns from me and she marches determinedly away. I'm _so confused. Why would I give her strength? Why would she need strength?_ Not liking this foreign feeling of being lost; I chalk it up to her missing me and having to deal with Baxter all in one bundle.I step forwards and get tugged backwards, being spun into another pair of arms. The French voice is sweet with that familiar snark just under the surface.

"Oh, have I missed you." the accent greets me warmly. The girl pulls back and I'm greeted with mossy green eyes and light brown waves of hair. Her smile is like the rising sun and though it is small and fleeting, it is genuine.

"Dominique." I greet in reciprocation. "So good to see you cousin." I tilt my head at her new hair colour. "You're new hair colour suits you."

"Which in Rose-speak means: 'You no longer look identical to your bitch of a witch sister who has long blonde hair'",

"Pffft… I wouldn't have phrased it like _that."_ We pull back from each other and I've never been so happy to see my older cousin. I muse on whether she knows about my House yet. I wonder how my other family will react. As if answering my questions more family members break off from their conversations to offer personal greeting and soon enough I'm swamped by the family;

"Well if it isn't our own little trend-setter." Auntie Fleur drones.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Uncle Harry is quick to defend. Aunt Ginny eyes me warily from behind him. She'd never liked Slytherins. I wasn't surprised to see her obvious distrust.

"What's it like in the snake pit? Does it ever get too cold and slimy for you? Oh wait… Guess I forgot the cold-blooded creature I was speaking to." That of course was said by Victoire who flicks back those long locks and braces herself for the reprimand she knows is coming. I grit my teeth in agitation and am aghast when it's only my mum and Uncle Harry who leap into my defence. Hugo also gives her a vicious tug on her hair and I can't help but feel proud of my little brother.

"Victoire! That's not a nice thing to say to your cousin." Harry frowns.

"Perhaps you should check your own imperfections before you start criticizing someone else's life." Hermione snaps. My lovely mother is bristling in indignation and seems incredulous by how Victoire's own parents aren't intervening or telling their daughter off. I give her my best 'fuck you' smile (which I perfect every encounter I have with Krum): "I'm so sorry but I don't understand what language you're speaking." I drawl sweetly. "Sounds like bullshit." Victoire's eyes flash meanly. My younger cousins 'oog' quietly and the adults dissolve into bouts of tittering and whispers. Nick, who's hand-in-hand with Genevie wears a tell-tale grin that he heard my jibe. I wave at him subtly, not wanting to draw too much attention to the Slytherin boy I'd befriended.

"Mind your language, missy." Bill chastises.

"I'll mind my language when you start _minding_ your daughter." Even I understand that I've overstepped a line. Victoire seems ecstatic at my fuck-up. Hugo inches closer to my side and I can feel Dominique move a little in front of me. I'm not sure whether it's instinctive or they are predicting some huge ruckus but even my mum seems apprehensive of what's going to come next. Thankfully, Bill checks himself before he says something foolhardy and tells Fleur and his daughters that they need to go.

"What about Louis?" George's wife, Angelina, pipes up.

"He's staying over at his friend's house." Bill replies, stiffly. The scars on his face remind me of whose daughter I'm dealing with and I can hardly suppress a shiver of fear. My mind catches up to the words Bill had said and I'm at a loss of who Louis' freind was. Best I knew, he didn't have any. I tug on Dominique's Rolling Stones tee to grab her attention. "Some dude named Sebastian something-" she whispers.

"-Krum?" I guess, shocked. She nods her affirmation and I try let that sink in. _Louis is friend with Krum!? Since when...!?_

The four depart and I feel saddened by Dominique leaving. Albus and James trail after Ginny who's ranting under her breath at no doubt my disrespectful words. Lily agreeably skips after her mother and after Harry has hugged my mother and me goodbye (and chucked Hugo's chin) he follows them and Percy leave with them and Molly says a timid goodbye to us all before dragging bubbly Lucy along with her. The crowd at the station is thinning out. I notice that Kat has disappeared along with her mother and that Kieran and Scorpius are deep in conversation with Draco Malfoy and his wife, Astoria Malfoy née Greengrass. Both look elegant and proud in their attire and the Malfoy matriarch is chatting amiably with both boys in fluent French.

"Oh no, not again…" Fred groans, pointing to the side of the Malfoy's to a little secretive alcove where the gloom and shadow reveals a lip-locked couple. Roxanne is playing tongue tennis with some faceless boy. He's faceless because it literally looks as though she's eating his face. I cover Hugo's eyes with a hand, wondering whether this can even be clased as 'PG-13' from the explicit amount of PDA the two are sporting. Fred looks utterly sick and I must admit, my own nose crinkles at the sight. George's face looks a cross between angry and amused; "Roxanne Weasley, get over here right now." he shouts over. Angelina has to be restrained from smacking one of the kissing duo senseless by Ron. George muses aloud "I wonder whether this is an effect of my new gum." My eyes expand to the size of space ships. And I hurriedly take out the gum I've been chewing throughout the train journey. George grins at me- "Only joking, Rosie. I was actually talking more on my unreleased product." Angelina turns her fiery anger onto her husband. "Don't tell me you've been using our kids as guinea pigs for your newest products again!" she exclaims. George looks guilty.

"It's usually alright, love." he defend weakly. Angelina huffs and rolls her eyes;

"Remember that time when you Roxy's hair bright blue?"

"That was the manufacturer's mist-"

"Or when Fred had to be admitted to St Mungo's after you turned him into a dancing leprechaun when he was five years old." Fred looks horrified by the recollection.

"It was an accident-"

"Or when those talking teddy bears grew into real bears and scared the shit out of everyone at Roxy's eighth birthday Princess Party?" George chuckles but hold his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay. Understand that I _may_ be a scarring factor on our kid's lives." he teases.

Angelina nods, "Damn straight."

My parents look amused from the affair. Roxy has by now rejoined us and is walking with a little bit of a swagger in her step.

"That was gross." Fred remarks, in a no-nonsense way. Her eyes sweep across all of us and I add "It was gross, in all honesty." to my wildest cousin's face. She snorts and messes up Hugo's hair playfully.

"Just you wait, Rosie Posie." she winks at me, "Soon enough you'll be doing stuff like that yourself." I shake my head in vehement disagreement.

"No way, josé." I argue. She only shrugs. Her body language clearly suggests that she disagrees with me but she can't be bothered to get into it. "Ew." Hugo spells out from besides me. Roxy makes up some lame explanation for kissing what's-his-name on the platform and we say our goodbye's to the remaining family. The car ride home is kind of tense. Dad hardly speaks whereas mum seems to want to talk a mile-a-minute with Hugo and me. I try tell her best I can about the aesthetics of the Slytherin house. About its ocean water scent and it's cushy armchairs. I tell her about Olivia and her nonno's farm and vineyard. I debate a little over which witch is the cattiest of the Professor's and whine a little over my cruel Potions teacher and his old ways of teaching. His disregard for Slytherin and I _very nearly_ tell her about Krum, before I catch myself- noting how rigid Dad's shoulders are and how mad he might get at the the family name- rearing old jealousies. Clambering from the little navy blue car, we all pile into our Family home. The wafting smell of freshly baked cookies and mulled wine waft deliciously through the air. I look dubiously at my mother whose eyes smile down at me. I see the knitting balls and spool of thread and I know instinctively who's waiting in the living room. The awkwardness from the car ride fades away and a grin blooms over mine and Hugo's faces. We rush to see her again. Her faded orange hair beacons us both.

"Grandma!"


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Chapter 10 hath arrived to all ye muggles... Joking joking. I'm feeling Shakespearean today, hence the language^. Thank you my lovely readers you honestly inspire me with sticking with little ol' Rose and her sharp comments. Hmm, teaser or nah? This is one of my favorite chapters (because the ending just...Wow- lots of foreshadowing there friends...). To all you who've read my Dramione fic I'll be updating that by Thursday if not before *crosses fingers*. In three words I guess this chapter is: promotion, letter, prophecy. Happy reading! :)**

Grandma Molly wraps us both in a comforting bear hug, squeezing us against her and beaming proudly at us. We eventually disentangle from her grasp and I'm eased by her presence in our living room. Grandma Weasley checks us both from toe to crown and fusses like she usually does-

"Hugo! Rose! I haven't seen you both in goodness knows how long- Are you both alright? Is school okay, Rose? Was the travelling all safe and well? Oh dearies, you must be starving! I'll just put together a plate of cookies from off the cooling rack…" She swishes her wand and the cookies levitate off the rack and float over to a large porcelain plate with yellow-dressed ladies waltzing along the rim. With another swish of her wand a magical record player sprouts wooden legs and buttercup yellow clogs and stumbles its way closer across the room before picking out its own record with wooden fingers and placing it atop its boxy head as though it were a hat. I giggle at the funny sight and only stop when a large glass of cold milk is pushed into my hand by Hugo and the delicious cookies are set onto the coffee table. Mum hangs up her winter coat and strides over to Molly's open embrace. Dipping the chocolate chip cookie in my milk, I take a seat onto my favourite purple armchair and soak in the sights of my home which I'd missed while away.

The living room is carpeted in an amber colour (Dad's preference; mum would've much preferred a simple cream) and it's home of many bizarre and wonderful things. Along the opposite war to the brown wooden door is a 'show wall' which is cerulean blue though you can't really see it under the framed family photos, some Kandinsky artwork, a magicked clock which is confusingly created with planets and orbital shifts rather than simpler dials and numbers, a calendar with lots of scrawls appearing and reappearing upon it, mum's graduation photo, Hugo's cubs certificates and my spelling bee and academic commendations. Underneath the busy wall is an original fireplace, connected up to the floo network of course and decorated with expansive brass decor. Across from the fireplace is the Paisley print sofa that grandma, mum and Hugo are sat on and the mug-stained coffee table. Bean bag chairs and a large bookcase dominate the indigo painted wall on the left side and on the right our television and game consoles overrule their tucked away corner. My armchair and another couch are on the right side (painted honey gold) and dad plonks himself onto the leather lazyboy armchair next to the mound of bean bag chairs opposite my side. I take wriggling

Tinker from her place in my pocket and she tumbles across my lap looking a little travel sick.

I stroke her, smoothing down her fuzzed up fur and cooing sweet nothings to my beloved kitten. Hugo, spotting Tinker, runs to the kitchen. I tune into mum and grandma's conversation:

"What's your job like at the moment, dear?" The senior matriarch queries. "Is your department treating you well?" I nibble at my cookie and sigh dreamily at the crumbly goodness. Mum glances at her fingers clasped on her lap and takes a breath before replying: "My department of Magical Law was making much progress. House Elves now have to have the opportunity given to them beforehand whether they want payment and they no longer are bound to years of servitude under not having proper attire. We've set down notions of them wearing whatever suits their fancy and it is up to contracts drawn by their own hands which decide the length of time they work for somebody. Werewolves also have much more opportunities for work; it's only the vampire's isolatory response from interaction with wizards and witches which is proving a challenge to us at the moment." Grandma passes a cookie to my mum, questioning gently, "If that's the case, why is it you look so worn out, dear? Surely it is not the vampires who are causing unrest?" I look up from Tinker, noting the worry in Grandma's voice and the way mum looks shifty and hesitates a little too long before responding. Hugo, takes this moment to rush in with a piece of ham dangling from his hand and make a beeline for Tinker. I let him take her from off my lap and try make out mum's speech through Hugo's usual babble. Dad's the one who finally pipes up, taking us all by surprise.

"Hermione's been offered a _promotion_." he says. On paper the words sound meaningless, perhaps congratulatory. But it's the jibe interlaced in his tone, the narrow eyed jealous glare, the complete disdain which truly makes Dad's words cause uneasiness to settle among us.

"Ron, you know that I never asked for the job-"

"Of course not, dear." he mocks, "I'm sure that it wasn't your long hours at the office and neglection of me and Hugo which drove them to-"

"Neglection? When have I _ever_ neglected _either_ of my children?" Hermione interrupts, sounding cross. "Hugo has school while I'm working and, need you forget, it's my income which pays the bills and provides for our family." Ron stands up, face flushed in anger, eyes fixated on his wife.

"And there you go again with all your 'I make more money than you' and 'Hey, look everybody at me and my perfect job' rubbish. I swear, you kiss your coffee cup more than you do me." His voice raises higher and higher, until he's practically shouting. Hugo clambers onto my lap, his face pale and body trembling. I hug him closer to my side, keeping a wary look at the scene unfolding around us. _Why is Dad acting so mad all of a sudden? I can't remember ever hearing mum rub her job or money in his face; if anything, she prefers asking how the joke shop is going…_

Grandma stands up, tone steely and firm as she demands Ron to "Go cool off for a bit." With a slam of the front door and incomprehensible murmurs under his breath Ron does as he's told, not quite brave enough to argue against his own mother. Mum exhales shakily at the _bang_ of the front door. Hugo wriggles off my lap, releasing Tinker, and climbing atop my mother's. She hugs Hugo close to her and frown down at where Ron disappeared from.

"What was that all about?" Grandma voices our thoughts.

"Hugo, sweetheart, would you go make me and grandma a nice cup of tea? Rose you can go help supervise." Hugo diligently ambles into the kitchen and sets about putting the kettle on. I shake my head.

"I want to stay mum." I plead. Her chocolate eyes beg me to leave it be and even grandma hustles me away from the room. Moodily. I traipse away, then feeling a spark of innovation I run upstairs to go find the Extendable Ears Uncle George got my for christmas last year. I don't even take the time to marvel at my newly-cleaned room or idly fondle my stuffed toy collection; I'm way too focussed on digging out the ears from my drawers. Leafing through piles of books, playing cards and a bunch of letters from Alice that I'd kept over the years I finally locate the ears. I run downstairs then creep closer to the door. I pray mum hasn't spelled the entire room quiet because I can only work past a charm on the door. Fortunately the ears work and I'm able to decipher what they are both saying.

"-Ron doesn't like the idea of me becoming Minister of Magic. He says that it'll take up too much of my time and that he's already feeling left out and abandoned over my paperwork."

"Ron always has been like that, even as a child," Grandma reflects "Whenever he made a friend or had something new given to him he'd hide it from all his other brother's and hated sharing what he owned."

"But he must learn to-" mum persists, "-I understand that he's possessive but I can hardly quit my job over his selfishness. I love Ron to pieces but he's never really understood how valuable my work is to me, how not only is it beneficial for my own expansion of knowledge but how it benefits entire communities of creatures and magical individuals across the UK."

"Give him time, dear. I'm sure he'll come round to your work knows you put your best into everything you do and being a housewife?" Grandma scoffs aloud "-it would be a waste of your talents, Hermione, love." Inching closer, I step on a creaky floorboard and I still, fearing they'd heard me. Tiptoeing hurriedly back upstairs I hide myself behind the bannister and pray that no one noticed my stooping. I re-bury my ears in the drawer proclaiming 'Useful trinkets', mind whirring with what I'd just heard. _Mum being Mister is great! I know she'd always aspired to further the Ministry of Magic as far as she could and this is a dream opportunity for her! I can't believe dad's being so strange about it. He knows how much mum loves us all- shouldn't that be enough?_

When I return back downstairs, Hugo gives me a look which clearly says 'I saw you doing that sneaky ears act' and I make a zipping gesture across my lips, hoping he gets the message. He does but I can see he wants to know what I'd heard. I stroke my old tabby as he weaves through my legs and am relatively pleased to see the conversation has changed to 'Uncle Charlie's latest adventure in Bulgaria.' I finish my last bit of milk and cookie and smile at Crookshanks who's curled up on mum's knee. He's a massive cat- more dog-like than cat- with a squashed up face. Dda hates him. He hates Dad. I'd always been fond of the cat myself; but then again, I liked all animals. The record plays 'Hey Jude' by The Beatles as I settle back onto my armchair. The rest of the day is spent reading Book Three from The Skulduggery Pleasant Series and chatting with my family.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When I'm tucked into my bed and the owls have started hooting outside, I finally put down my book and get up to brush my teeth and wash my face. Grandma Weasley had gone home hours ago, kissing mine and Hugo's cheeks and leaving baked goods on the kitchen counter. She'd triple checked with mum that we were coming to the Burrow in two days time to spend the rest of the two week christmas break at the Burrow.

Bleary-eyed and stumbling, I wander into the bathroom. I brush my teeth and wash my face before noticing a shape behind the shower curtain. Remembering some creepy scenes from my Doctor-Who marathons at school, I'm apprehensive when shoving the curtain aside. I jump at the sight of Hugo's sleeping body. His freckled face is smushed up against the side of the bath and he shivers under his dark green blanket. His carrot-top hair is sticking up at odd angles making him look like Albus. I remember the awful dream of Alus crying out for me, bleeding and broken. I brush it off and gather my not-so-little nine year old brother in my arms. I grunt at the weight but feel it's my duty to at least give my brother more comfort than falling asleep in the tub. I wonder why he was in there in the first place. I snap off the light and go back into the hallway. I hear the sound of my dad returning at last. I hear mum's hushed yet frantic whispers of "where have you been!?" and Dad's drunken slur that he was "Out with friends." I don't want their arguing to disturb Hugo so I make a quick fire decision and take him to my room. I tuck him onto my bed, shuffling along so we can both fit atop the mattress. I hold his hand only to feel something papery clasped between his fingers. Grabbing the duvet I cover us both up from the cold and finger by finger I unclasp his firm grip to see what he's got. When I see it, my eyes feel a little bit wetter tha before and my breath comes in short pants. I wonder if my emotions are spurring on a panic attack. However, there's no Nick with me to hold my hand and stop me from teetering over the edge. No chocolate brown eyes to soothe me or hug to hold on to. I look at Hugo, his brow furrowed in troubled sleep. I run a shaking hand over his freckled cheeks, the eyelids which are fluttering slightly. I force myself to take deep breaths to ignore the incriminating paper in my hand. Slowly, oh so slowly, I stop myself from a full-fledged freak out. Tears streaming down my cheeks, I hide the picture. I bundle Hugo in my arms and try forget the black and white photo of mum and dad. It's not just any photo. This photo shows a beaming Hermione looking at a loving Ron. They're utterly consumed by one another. Dad wears a smart tux with a silly looking bowtie and mum an elegant, lace white dress. It's their wedding photo.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next two days go by in peace. Dad apologises profusely for his action and kisses mum in an exaggerated show of lovey-doveyness. Hugo 'eww''s at the display and I hide my grin in my book. We decorate the tree Dad and Uncle George went out to chop down and collect on their mini- road-trip. Mum hosted a coffee morning for Auntie Angelina and Mrs Abbott. I read throughout the days and joined Hugo when he was digging up worms and caterpillars in the garden. Alice couldn't come round- which was a shame as she lived on my street- because she'd gone to her Nanna's in Ireland for a week. On our last day at home we decorated the tree with red and gold baubles. Dad remarked- as he did every year- of how it "Took him back to his Gryffindor days" and I suddenly felt rather awkward net to Dad; who was oblivious of what he'd just said. Mum sent me a sympathetic look and I hid myself from the pity they held by excusing myself from the tree-decorating to go upstairs and read. I wrote letters to Kat, Diamond, Nick and Olivia telling them I was staying at the Burrow and asking them about their holidays so far. Nick was the only one to respond on the same day. His owl hooted at me and I hurried to open my window and un-ribbon the letter tied to its foot.

"Thank you, Ivory." I thank the jet-black bird. I'd always found it ironic and amusing how he'd named his bird the opposite of it's colour. When I'd enquired over its name choice one breakfast morning, Nick had only given me a cheeky grin and replied "I like the ones who break the stereotypes." I'd felt a happy glow, recalling how I'd effectively broken my Weasley stereotype by being Slytherin. Ivory hoots back and I feed her a couple of seeds before she flies off. The letter has no envelope but it doesn't matter in the least. After sitting next to him in Charms and on the breakfast table, I was by now well-accustomed to his spider-like scrawl.

 _Dear Rose,_

 _Thanks for telling me about you going to the Burrow and all, also: good luck with your cousins. I'm sure they'll get used to your new Hogwarts House with time- but try not to add more time to your waiting by letting that snarky tongue get the best of you (yup, I heard what you said to your cousin and uncle in the station! Haha, you rebel…)! So far I've been driven half mad by Genevie's arguing and how she pretty much loathes dad's girlfriend and her daughter (who is… Quite unexpected to say the least.) Gabrielle and me have been playing Quidditch with friends to distract ourselves. Are you looking forward to Quidditch next year? I can't wait to sign up for the team- it should be awesome, 'specially with the players we have already. Talking of Quidditch did you hear the result of last night's game? If not, check it out. You owe me a sickle and a couple of knuts for the results! :) Wish you were here,_

 _Nick_

I smiled at the letter and had been surprised to find that the Chudley Cannons had won a game for the first time in decades against the Appleby Arrows. I'd written a letter back. And was still waiting upon a response the day after when I'd been ushered to the living room so we could floo over to the burrow.

Dad carried a couple cases of luggage over before returning for more then disappearing again into the crackling neon flames. Hugo and mum went next and I brought up the rear. I hated traveling by floo. It made my stomach lurch in sickness and my body feel all wobbly and stretched out. When I was back on solid ground, I breathed a sigh of relief and succumbed to the hugging of Dominique and a couple other cousins. Granddad Weasley wasted no time in launching conversation with Hugo over his Star Wars DVD's that Hugo had apparently leant him. My mismatched home dulls slightly in comparison to the hustle and bustle of the Burrow. I'm always struck by awe at how cramped and homely it is.

Like for example, right now there is a million and one things happening all at once. The open doors and noise notifies me of what most are doing. Grandad and Hugo are completely fangirling over Star Wars at the dining table. James and Fred are conspiring by the whistling kettle (it literally whistles! Right now it's whistling out the tune "Oh I do like to be beside the seaside" as it boils its water). Victoire is painting Lily's nails hot pink while Roxanne paints Lucy's Peppa-pig pink- further down the dining table. Uncle Bill and Uncle Charlie are on de-gnoming duties in the garden. Teddy is reading an advance Defence Against The Dark Arts textbook. Even Luna is there, sipping a Blue Lagoon cocktail while paging through the Quibbler. Uncle Harry wanders in from the landing and greets us warmly. I'm not sure why but I feel like dad's response to his best friend is a little… Less genuine than normal.

However, it's christmas eve and I'm still hyped up on festival happiness. Dominique offers me a Candy Cane and I'm not in the least surprised when it transforms into a toy snake as soon as it touches my lips. Dominique cackles at the rubber snake which makes an occasional 'Hiss hiss beyatches' in a sassy voice every thirty seconds or so.

"Desolée… Sorry…" she gasped between laughter. I roll my eyes and smile a little at the clever trick.

"You're such a witch." I tease, examining the sassy little snake in mild admiration. Dominique winks at me, asking: "Do you like zit? I learnt ze trick at Beauxbatons… I thought it suitable- s sassy snake for a sassy Slytherin." James and Fred look up from their conspiring and I can feel my other cousins' ears perk up a well. I wonder amusedly whether they think I'm gonna explode at Dom or something. _Silly, cousins. Don't you realise it's only those who take my House badly who I'm mad at?_

"'Course I like it. I knew that you'd be the one who wouldn't act all prissy about my Sorting." I hug Dom, feeling affection towards the girl. When we depart the snake slips from my grip and is accio'd over to Uncle George. He looks at the snake closely.

"How did you do this?" he asks Dom. She strolls over to tell him and he gapes at her genius in craftsmanship. James and Fred join in and I leave the group to go find a secluded place to write to my school friends.

In the hallway, I bump into the twins: Lysander and Lorcan. Lorcan looks wary of me, surveying my presence and looking dubiously at his twin whose expression is the complete opposite. Lysander looks eager and friendly and holds out his hand with no hesitation. Confused, I take the palm and find myself holding hands with a twin I had never once spoken to before. He and his brother escort me up three flights of stairs to the attic. Me ,being me, means that I was questioning them all the way there.

"Wait! Where are you going? Why are you both here? I don't understand…" Up and up we go. Until we're in the attic (which has been remodified into more of a hangout den). Lysander relaxes his hand and I yank mine free. "Rude." I mutter at their ignoring me.

I stomp into the middle of the room, spin on my foot and plant my hands onto my hips as I stare defiantly at the Lovegood twins.

"What? What is it that was so important you had to drag me all the way up here for?" I demand, eyes flinting. The twins (who I can only really identify by their body language) react in different ways. Lorcan looks guilty and cautious. I think that he think I'm gonna suddenly launch myself at him despite him being in his third year of school, meaning he's bigger and stronger than me which would uneven the odds. Lysander is inching closer to me and seems to be on the verge of blurting something. Strange considering he's usually the reserved twin. I wonder if I've mixed the both of them up. My question is answered by what Lysander- yes, it is Lysander- speaks next.

"I saw you listening to me in the library. I sensed your aura and I can still sense it now." I open my mouth but no words fall from my lips. "Sorry. It was Lorcan's idea to cast a silencing charm on you." Lysander apologises, shrugging his shoulders a little. I feel my first bout of fear since the two took me up here. _What the holy hell is going on here? Why the fuck do I need to be silenced!?_

"Don't panic. We're not here to hurt you or anything, we just wish to talk." I jab my finger at my lips exaggerating how it's gonna be pretty damn hard for me to _talk_ with _them._ Lysander steps towards me and I step back. He steps again; I step back. This recurs until I find myself against the wall and I'm suddenly _very aware_ of the curiosity sparking in Lysander's eyes. He no longer looks dreamy and innocent as a lamb but as calculating and earnest as a scientist. My eyes widen in fear.

"Your _aura-"_ Lysander breathes in awe, stroking my cheek with his knuckles as if entranced "-is-"

Sadly, I didn't get to hear what my aura was at that moment because Lorcan had decided to intervene and shove Lysander away from me with a hand on his twin's shoulder.

"Tone it down a little, bro. You're scaring her." he scolds. And sure enough, I'm terrified. Something is not quite right with Lysander and I'll be damned if I don't try find out what. Lysander snaps back to himself in a heartbeat and the calculative look is gone. He waves his wand and I can suddenly speak again.

"You-" I lift a trembling finger at Lysander. "- _stay away from me_." He looks put out by my request. Lorcan rakes a hand over his hair and gestures for me to take a seat. "I'll stand." I reply, coolly.

"I'm sorry about my brother. What we wanted to say was that we've heard about your feud with Vanessa and we've consulted the centaurs over your future, Rose. We were curious because of how much you've already stirred up at school and we're apprehensive of complete 'Mean Girls' drama re-occuring." He pauses.

"What did they say?" I prompt, despite my best sense I'm truly interested. Lysander replies:

"'The witch with crimson roots and green robes will be our greatest saviour and damnation. She will become both villain and hero. Nothing is as simple as it is made out, especially when it comes to both love and war. The dead will have risen because of her but will not rest until she is among them. She is prophesied to be betrayed by the one she trusts the most. _Per aspera ad astra."_ My throat turns dry.

"What does that mean?" I croak out, aghast. The two twins speak as one;

"Through hardship to the stars." We quieten. I stumble into a chair. The twins leave. Lorcan apologises for causing unrest. He tells me to find him if I need anything and that although he doesn't really trust me, he trusts that I'll keep this a secret. My nod is my only answer. Lysander lingers. He studies me, through me and about me at the same time. He throws something at me and I have to use my Quidditch reflexes to catch the item. It's a stone, round and onyx black. It has a hole into the middle of it. I don't know what it is or why he's given it to me.

"Use this," he says over his shoulder as he leaves, "It will help you find the answers you will one day seek."

And with that, the cryptic twins are gone, leaving me with a intangible sorrow and whirlwind of befuddled questions.

 _The dead will have risen because of her but will not rest until she is among them._

 _Aw, hell..._


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'M A DAY LATE! Nooo, I broke my lovely new trend... :( I'm so sorry. My excuse is dan and phil Youtube videos (although, I know that that is no excuse to you my faithful readers) and so I apologise. What's even worse is that I'm super busy from tomorrow to sunday so my update will probably be Monday *gasps in horror*. If you're curious as to how sarcastic I'm being it's a firm 'I'm not really sure because I've become so sarcastic that I'm never really sure if I'm being 100% genuine any more' Haha lol :) Anyways this chapter in 3 words is (in 3 m-words to make it a tad trickier for me): melancholy, mellow and monster(s). Enjoy!**

I'm awoken Christmas morning with a boy launching himself into my arms. The weight knocks the breath from my lungs and bright blue eyes and a boyish grin are the first things that my eyes land on. _What the hell!?_

"Hugo! Why-wha…?" I mumble sleepily, still regaining my breath. He flashes me his dimples.

"ROSE IT'S CHRISTMAS, YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP!" he shouts. Right in my face. _Ow…_ I wince at the volume and push him off of me, cuddling my blankets closer to my body. Through my sleep-muddled brain I notice that my other cousins are trying to rouse Roxanne and Teddy who- like me- do not enjoy the art of waking up early. _Talking of early, what time is-_

My watch' little dials tell me it's "Five forty-five? Why the bloody hell are you waking me up this early Hugo?" I exclaim, trying to block him out with my blanket shield. His hand pulls it back down and he gives me a classic 'Duh' face while he tells me yet again how it's christmas.

This catches up to me and, with only a little reluctance, I push off my blankets and get up. A smile tugs at my lips. _It's christmas! It's finally, unavoidably christmas day! The day where I get to receive presents and family hugs and_ _ **hopefully**_ _everyone will put aside my Slytherin sorting because it's_ totally _un-festive to be all judgy._ I scramble out of my sleeping bag and blanket mound and notice how sleepy everyone looks in our 'kids only' sleeping tent the adults set up when we ran out of rooms at the Burrow. Dominique stirs from beside me and waves a hand over her face, trying to forget the sunlight streaming through the tent windows. I prod her in her side, right on her Nirvana smiley face logo, and do it again and again until she sits up with crazy eyes and bats my hand away.

Smug at my successful attempt to waken Dom, I look around. Not many of us are still in the tent;

"Lily, Lucy, Molly, Fred, Al, James, Victoire and Lorcan are already up and in the Burrow." Hugo informs, answering my unspoken question. Dominique stands up and stretches much like a cat would. I follow her and Hugo out of the tent, recoiling a little at the bright morning sun over the misty horizon. I stagger from the Tardis-like tent (it has an expandable charm on it; so it looks deceivingly small from outside) and across the dewy lawn. Spiky wet grass pokes between my toes and I smile at the small but oddly satisfying feel of earth under my feet. The front door of the Burrow is wide open. Hugo slips his smaller hand into mine as we enter the busybody household.

As I'd expected, it's a hotbed of activity. Aunts and uncles are passing presents along like they're playing pass the parcel. The lounge floor is already littered with multi-coloured wrapping paper and ribbons. Hugo leads me deep into the throng and I try ignore the dirty looks Aunt Fleur and Victoire are giving me. Instead deeper and deeper we wade until we've reached the sofa mum and dad are sat at. Mum's eyes light up when she catches sight of us both and she gives us both big hugs to compensate Dad chattering on with Uncle Harry, who looks a little bored if I'm reading him right.

"Morning you two." Mum greets, reaching for her wand. Uncle Harry breaks off conversation with Ron to come give us both hugs. He feels blissfully warm and protective when we're huddled against his form. It's only then that I'm struck by the realization that not once has Dad hugged me since I arrived home. _Maybe he did and I forgot?_ I think to myself. But doubt resurfaces and I'm a little shaken by how hurt I feel by him not hugging me. So, being as blunt as I can- when I'm out of Harry's arms I turn to Dad and hold my arms out for a hug. Dad looks torn and I'm _sure_ he's going to refuse the invitation until my mum nudges him firmly and he stands up to give us both a hug. I nearly cry in relief. I wonder whether all these emotions have been spurred up by the Christmas Season or if there's another reason I've been feeling so emotional lately. Mentally shaking the thought I relax into Dad's hug only for him to release me seconds after and smile at me and Hugo.

"You'll never guess what your Uncle Charlie got me for Christmas-" he begins. He turns and digs next to mum to fish out a strange looking ornament. It's of a teeny weeny dragon swimming around something resembling a snow globe.

"Woah," Hugo admires, "Is that the-"

"-Tiniest dragon you've ever seen? A miniature dragon fish which can enlarge to immense proportions once the glass has been shattered? The glass which only shatters if you know the dragon's true name? Why yes, yes it is." reveals Charlie, smugly. He strolls over to us and ruffles Hugo's hair affectionately. "Are you impressed?" Hugo, ever the truest Uncle Charlie fanboy, nods his head repeatedly, sputtering: "But I thought they became extinct!" Uncle Charlie's eyes slide from Hugo's to mine and I notice how his hair covers some of his features.

"As did I. But it turns out some impossibilities are only impossible when people believe that they simply cannot be true." His words hold a deeper inflection. Crossing my arms, I retort:

"Like me, then? A Slytherin Weasley was once deemed impossible." Dad sucks in a breath from behind me. I can sense mum's pride like it's a physical thing. Uncle Charlie blinks.

"I suppose so."

Our conversation cuts short by Grandma distributing presents into our arms. The shiny violet paper reminds me of my Christmas spirit and I unwrap the newest hand-knitted jumper with fondness. Sure enough, the squashy lump turns out to be an indigo knitted jumper with a white 'R' on it. All my cousins receive similar jumpers but in different base colours; Hugo: red, Molly: Yellow, Lucy: light pink, Lily: dark pink, Fred: brown, Roxanne: maroon, James: light green, Victoire: orange, Dominique: light blue, Albus: dark blue and Teddy: black. Both Scamander twins get knitted hats in different shades of grey. I thank grandma and laugh when Granddad Weasley comments on how "she's been working on them all for the past two months!". I pull mine on over my blue flannel pyjamas and begin to unwrap the rest of my gifts in a happy mood.

Because the family is so large my present load is also quite time-taking. I spend more than an hour unwrapping the christmas presents. From Uncle Harry and co. I get the entire set of Chocolate Box Book Series by Cathy Cassidy (which is one of my favourite muggle authors!), from Teddy I get given a couple of snapback hats (yes, I do have a little bit of a love of hats), from Uncle Percy and his immediate family I receive a Homework Diary Planner and a set of new quills, Uncle George passes me lots of stuff from his and dad' shop (which _hell yeah_ I plan on using) and Angelina rolls her eyes, with an exasperated smile on her face, at how excited Hugo and I become when we look at the prank items. Dominique breaks the trend of letting the parents buy gifts for everyone by surprising me with a magical tee-shirt. At first it looks like an ordinary navy blue t-shirt until Dominique's curly scripture writes one of my favourite fandom quotes. It's the doctor who quote: "We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh?" and a small drawing of the Tardis.

As you can guess I'm ecstatic at the fandom top. Uncle Bill and his prissy wife strut over and I'm befuddled why they both look like they've swallowed a lemon when approach us. Dominique eyes them both with wariness. Fleur curls her lip at her daughter and says something quickly in French to her. It's too quick for me to translate so I feel a little lost as the two spar openly. With a dark scowl Dom shuts up and grabs the wrapped shape in her mother's hands. Uncle Bill and Fleur look angry, no doubt at whatever words Dominique had said and her passive aggression towards the their forced smiles and insufferably close presence are long since gone, Dominique smoothes her cross look and passes me the lumpy present. It's wrapped in an awful sickly green tissue paper and I briefly wonder if it contains something scarring, like an animal corpse or something… Seeing my hesitancy, it's actually Mum who opens it for me. Satiny fabric with chiffon and lace swish gently in their papery bed. It turns out to be the most emerald dress I've ever encountered. It's two sizes too big and strapless. The dress has a cinched waist and stops around roughly mid-thigh on Dominique, who holds it up in calculation.

"Well, that's rather silly." Dad indicates to the garment, frowning: "It's way too green for someone like you, Rose." Mum feels the cloth between her fingertips, absorbed in thought.

"Way too green?" I echo, confused.

"Well yeah. It's like wearing 'I'm a Slytherin' on your forehead. It's stupid- everyone already knows you're a snake, there's really no point adding fuel to the fire." Hugo cringes. Mum flinches. Me? I get quite upset, "What does that mean, dad? I-I thought you understood…" My eyes blur a little. Dad scoffs, "Understand, what? Bloody hell rose I thought it was a prank until that day at the station. There's no way that any daughter of mine would-"

"That's enough Ronald." Mum states, firmly. Those loving eyes darken when she looks at her husband. The tone is harsh, unrelenting as a Goblin's; "We've been through this many times before-" I can't take it anymore. I spin on my heel and rush from the lounge, past Lucy's talking dolly, past Fred's booming laughter, away from Victoire's slitted glare and out the front door.

"Rose!" I hear Dominique's voice call out in the distant background. I ignore her. I ignore all of them. I run until I'm gasping for breath. I run until I've reached the little water creek and I can sit by the banking and dangle my dirt-smudged legs over the side.

 _Am I really the black sheep of the family? The runt of the litter? The pencil in a box of crayons? What was it about me that made the Sorting hat decide to choose me-_ _ **me!-**_ _to go into a House no other Weasley has ever ventured in before? Am I so much of an outcast that- WAIT WHAT'S THAT?_ I spot something in the water flashing. I dig my fingers into the mossy banking and scale down the river edge until I'm very close to the rushing water. Against a jutted out rock, the thing sparkles, mesmerising me. The prismatic surface urges me to reach for it, to stretch my arm as far as possible and reach for the mysterious item. So I do.

My first try is fruitless and on my second turn my left hand- the one keeping me from falling- slides a little and my balance wavers. My body stiffens and I tighten my left hand to keep from falling in the fast-running water. I grab again feeling the rough edges of rock scrape my skin slightly. I feel a cool metal touch the tips of my fingers- _just a little more-_ and I've got it. It's wrapped in my palm. I swing my body back to the banking and climb back up until I'm fully on land. I shake a little on the mossy edge, stomach down on the ferns. My body is still a little shaky from adrenaline but I don't really mind. All I can think is: _I got it!_ What _it_ was was still a unknown to me. I open my palm, uncurling my fingers to peer at the object I risked myself for. The onyx crystal is a little muddied but it clearly winds in the letter 'S'. The crystal is ringed in well-crafted silver as far as I can tell and even that knowledge is murkied by it having been many years since my last antique shop visit with my muggle grandparents.

"Rose!" A voice calls out. I'm not sure why but something within me instinctively tries to shield the ring from view. I don't want anyone to see it, to become as fascinated and rapt as I was with the random piece of jewellery. And so I hide it behind my back, trying to look as natural as possible for whomever is coming towards me. It's Dominique, her dyed brown hair pulled into a messy bun and a determination resounding in every step. "Rose Minerva Weasley, don't you ever do that to me again." she huffs, waggling one finger at me, flopping back onto the banking next to me. Her pale eyes follow the rushing water and she takes a minute to admire the surroundings.

"Pretty, isn't it?" I murmur, enchanted by the contrast of crisp air and flourishing plant life, greens and brown and blue all twirling in their own little calamities. Dominique slides her gaze from the water to me:

"If only people saw what you and me see." There's no answer to this. It's not a question nor a mere musing or passing thought. It's melancholy under the harmless words. I look at Dom- I truly take a chance to _look-_ and I'm struck dumb by how curious a person she really is. To describe Dom would be like describing a thunderstorm- she's chaotic under her 'calm' facade and sad under her Veela-shaped face. Her eyes are eerily similar to Victoire's yet completely different. They hold shadows where Victoire's holds greed. From the way her rock-band t-shirt untucked from her leggings and her casual confidence you'd normally draw her up as the 'wild one'. The oddball in a picturesque family. Possibly the emo kid who sits in the bathrooms during lunch period, graffitiing the walls and finding solace in music. She is a little of that. But a little wistful and a little nostalgic. She's a curious person. Capiche.

"You're staring." she points out, moving her eyes from my face to the whispering trees.

"When you say these things, generally it does make people stare." I reply, softly. Dominique hold out her left hand, not shifting her eyes from the woodland around us. I take it and her cold hands offer no warmth, only meaning behind her gesture. When she speaks, I listen. I listen intently because my gut tells me that something's wrong. Not I'm-going-to-fail-my-Potions-test anxiety but a genuine _wrongness_ which makes me keep holding her cold hand fiercely. Her lips part and a strain of words hover in the mist around us; "Don't be scared, Rose,people feed on fear. The mean girls they thrive off of drama as though it is their oxygen. Cut them off and you suffocate the bitches. No matter what you do or what happens remember that I love you, okay? My parents don't understand love. Their relationship is as complex as nature itself. Neither does Victoire, my too-sweet sister." I roll my eyes thinking that Dom is being sarcastic. She sees this though and shakes her head slowly; "I'm being serious Rose. Under all that barbie plastic and designer makeup, Vic is just as much a little girl as you all are. Only when she hurts she morphs that hurt into vengeance. Her pain prompts her further to succeed. She wants Prince Charming and the Cinderella love story just as much as she did when she was five years old. Those ten years have taught her nothing about unrealistic dreams and she's somehow placed Teddy in that little false equation. Her heartbreak will be rough. You must help her, Rose. You must stop her from teetering over that edge when things go too far."

"Why can't you do this?" My voice is small. My lungs feel like a vacuum, empty and shallow. My breathing speeds up and I'm worried. Seriously worried about my cousin now. She doesn't answer the question like I'd hoped. She doesn't tell me 'everything will be okay' or other warming sentiments. Like her hand, my cousin is cold. She's as unreachable as a slate of ice and I worry what made my curious cousin turn so faraway.

"Rose. Promise me, Rose. Promise me that you'll do this." Her eyes never veer from the water which gurgles like a newborn baby.

"Dom? You're scaring me…" I whisper. A tear trickles down my eye. She stays silent. "Fine, I promise." I utter, quietly. Dominique looks up from the stream at long last and blesses me with that fleeting smile that I adore so much. _Like the rising sun._ A thought reminds me.

The smile fades and I feel a pang of loss at its departure. "Come on," she says, "They're expecting us." I follow her out of the sanctuary and back to life as I know it…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Arriving back is stressful. Dad apologises gruffly for upsetting me while mum and Grandma cluck over me and Dom like headless chickens. My dirty legs and hands and feet earn me a firm shove into the bathroom where the magical fountain bathes me under a nice hot spray. My red curls turn deceivingly flat in the wetness and I take the rare occasion to force a comb into the strands. After towel drying my hair, I change into my new Doctor Who top and some leggings and skip downstairs to join the family brunch. I squish in a seat besides Albus and Louis, who's somehow appeared.

"Hello, stranger." I greet Louis with, raising an eyebrow at him speculatively. He grunts some sort of reply. I smother a laugh at his non-response, picking up a piece of toast from the tower. I smear butter over it and take a good few minutes choosing whether I'm preferring marmalade or strawberry jam today. Albus chuckles under his breath. "What are you laughing at?" I ask, befuddled by how weird everyone's acting today. _First Dom and now this? Wow, the world really is turning topsy-turvy._ He stares pointedly at my two condiment jars.

"You're so indecisive." he states, the smallest hint of a smile softening his features.

"This is coming from a boy who can't decide whether Darth Mall or Kylo Ren's lightsaber is cooler." The hint of a smile nearly becomes a half-smile and I'm excited by this new

unexpected progression between us. Until Louis goes and fucks it all up by sneering; "What sort of self-respecting wizard watches _Star Wars."_ Albus' almost-smile drops and I'm infuriated at Louis for acting like such a prick. Granddad also hears him and seems disappointed by his prejudices.

"Now there, young man. What's all this bad talk over Star Wars?" he questions. Louis stuffs an entire rasher of bacon in his gob and James takes this time to comment on the movies.

"Star Wars is quite cool. All that shooting and glowy sticks-" he flails his arms and does some strange _whooshing_ noises. Roxy chokes on her pumpkin juice and Fred slaps her back hard.

"' _Glowy sticks?'"_ Granddad sputters, "You mean _lightsabers?"_

"Same thing." James shrugs. Granddad's goggle-gawking stare makes Roxy nearly cough up a lung and I can't help but giggle hysterically at the ruckus.

Uncle Percy looks concerned and starts whispering to Aunt Audrey over 'kids nowadays'.

Louis re-joins the conversation. "All that spaceship nonsense is stupid, though. What's the point of having a world run by aliens and robots? They never factor in the wizarding community or magic."

"Or Quidditch." James adds, wistfully.

"But they have _hovercrafts!"_ Hugo argues, eyes brightening at the debate.

"Hovercrafts are cool," I chip in, slathering marmalade over half my toast then completing the other half with jam.

"Ugh. But they'd be all dirty and smelly and blegh!" Lily cries three people down.

"Not really," I shrug, "As long as they keep their carbon footprint down and all that jazz, it would be like riding the tube kinda." Lily pouts, drooping her chin into her hands. I stuff some turkey in between the jammy toast and fold it up n itself, taking a big bite.

"That's gross." Lily comments, bluntly. I grin at her,

"It's tasty though." The rest of the dinner is spent discussing star wars and unusual eating habits. The Christmas brunch is a light affair, untainted by family rivalry and unusually tranquil. Afterwards though the adults go into the lounge to talk about 'adults stuff' while us kids go out to the field to mess around for a bit. I bring my book and read while Teddy sketches people besides me.

"Hey, Teddy?" I interrupt, perturbed by something Dom said to me earlier on.

"Uh-huh." His head is still buried in lining the intricacies of James' roguish grin as he tells the groups one wild story of 'the time he tripped over and landed on Mrs Norris'.

"Do you think that death is painful? For everybody, I mean." I hurry to add. This provokes a response and his blue hair tears itself away from the artwork and he studies me intently.

"Not always." he replies, "But death is never finite. It causes complications. Fissures, almost, in the hearts of those affected by it." He traces the top of a dandelion with his fingertip. The breeze flutters a few seeds free and they ride atop the wind currents like little ballerinas on a show.

"What are fissures?" I ask, not having heard the word before. His eyes meet mine and they are mellow and deep. I remember being told of how his birth parents had died during the War. Remus and Nymphadora- two lovers who died fighting bravely on the battlefield. I try imagine being brought up without my mum to hug me tight when I'm sad and my dad to tell me funny stories before going to bed. But I can't. I don't like the mere thought of such things.

"Fissures mean cracks." he tells me. "Some are tiny like surface bruises. But some… Some are like crevasses in the arctic. That deep." His eyes hold mine and we break gazes. He worries his lower lip and I do some sort of nervous nodding. The awkward moment is broken by the annual Quidditch match between us Weasley-Potter crew. We're divided into teams and I groan when both Lucy and Lily are on mine and Dom's team. They may be cutesy and bubbly cousins but they were honestly rubbish at quidditch. I cheer up a little when James (who can rock as a chaser) and Lorcan (quick-eyed seeker) are on our team. Roxy completes the team as my partner beater.

The whistle is blown and we kick off. I zoom up to the sky, feeling the rush of adrenaline sharpen my senses and make me feel _alive._ The doubts and worries are shoved rudely to he side as Quidditch overtakes my senses and sends my blood rushing. I take a deep breath of the pine and earthy scents surrounding me then clench my bat tightly in my clenched fists. A savage smile breaks out on my face. I'm too inescapably absorbed in the game to notice the way the air suddenly drops about ten degrees. I barely notice Fred' horrified gasp and Victoire's strangled scream. Nor am I consumed by the realisation that my cousins are retreating, whirring down to the safer ground to run away from the monsters which are closing in on us. I'm pre-occupied with the bludger I'm chasing. The ball spinning like a vicious blur in the open air, ensnaring my attention and making me forget the other players. I zoom after it in blissful ignorance. When I notice, it's already too late...


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Sorry abut not updating this yesterday but like I said my weekend was super hectic! Thank you to all you wizards and witches who like my story- y'all are just *adorable*:) Hmm... This chapter is short but I'm gonna try make it up to y'all by creating a fairly long chapter next time. Remember that Rose is still only eleven so the plot is not really kicking in quite just yet 'cause I want her to have a decent childhood before she's hit with the wall of evilness and puberty (which can we not pretty much agree is practically the same thing? Haha lol only joking...Kinda.) Anyways this chapter is more a filler than anything else but it hopefully sets down a couple more building blocks for the plot. Enjoy!**

 _The whistle is blown and we kick off. I zoom up to the sky, feeling the rush of adrenaline sharpen my senses and make me feel alive. The doubts and worries are shoved rudely to he side as Quidditch overtakes my senses and sends my blood rushing. I take a deep breath of the pine and earthy scents surrounding me then clench my bat tightly in my clenched fists. A savage smile breaks out on my face. I'm too inescapably absorbed in the game to notice the way the air suddenly drops about ten degrees. I barely notice Fred' horrified gasp and Victoire's strangled scream. Nor am I consumed by the realisation that my cousins are retreating, whirring down to the safer ground to run away from the monsters which are closing in on us. I'm pre-occupied with the bludger I'm chasing. The ball spinning like a vicious blur in the open air, ensnaring my attention and making me forget the other players. I zoom after it in blissful ignorance. When I notice, it's already too late..._

A thin layer of ice crackles onto the bludger I'm chasing and it stiffens and drops like a very heavy stone. The air around me feels suffocating, each breath of air sharp and fragmented in my lungs. My clutch on my broom slackens and memories and words attack like a small army of bees;

" _You must be the Black sheep Weasley"_

" _You were meant to be a Gryffindor, a fucking snake."_

" _-wondering whether we could have a personal interview with the Weasley misfit."_

" _It's way too green for someone like you, Rose."_

In my head Hugo is on my lap crying, pale and shaken. Albus is oozing blood and pointing an accusatory finger at me as he undergoes agony. Victoire stand over me- tall and domineering- her tinkling laugh mixing with Vanessa's high-pitched girly one. My dad looks supremely disappointed and Dominique shrivels as though she were a wilting flower.

 _No, no this isn't real… This isn't real!_

"Stop it!" I scream, "Please! Please stop!" I can't tell who I'm speaking to. All I can see are those faces. The accusation and suspicion laden within each one. Dark veiled creatures inch closer and closer to me. _Dementors, they're dementors._ I recall, remembering hearing many stories of the creatures. My body feels frozen. My broomstick hesitates, uncertain of what I'm wanting it to do. I look into the eyes of those grey ghouls and their eyeless stare is reflected back at me. A particularly hungry one breaks off from the circle and the coldness escalates. I shiver, body racked with terror. Icy fingers stroke my back and I remember that god-awful prophecy that Lysander had told me- blimey, was it really only yesterday!?- _The dead will have risen because of her but will not rest until she is among them._

 _Am I going to die?_ The thought turns my blood to ice. Strength ebbs away and I can't help but feel inferior and weak-willed in their grotesque clutches. Every single happy moment feels as distant as a long-forgotten dream. I begin to forget about love, about happiness about my friends and family. Instead I imagine darkness. Succumbing to the darkness and how very easy it would be. No judgements only sleep. Or was it sleep? Teddy's words worm their way into my brain as a second and third dementor come closer and closer. They struggle to break the depressed haze which deceives me into thinking I'm better off dead. " _But death is never finite. It causes complications. Fissures, almost, in the hearts of those affected by it."_ My self-preservation kicks in and I shoot a stunner at the three clamouring harbingers. Using the fire-red spell I twitch my fingers and lean forwards on my broom. Self-doubt rises. I push it aside. With the downwards tilt my broom positions and flies downwards, racing at dangerous speeds. The dementors chase after me, the first one appearing even more anticipatory. Black spots buzz lazily around my vision. In the corner of my eye I feel the group sucking in simultaneous breaths making my breath completely stutter to a halt and my muscles to spasm tgen numb. My body tilts and the broom is helpless to stop me from sliding off the edge and through the air. Sailing the wind like a bird. The dark spots are now moths, melanic and rapid, swarming me. A scream shatters me hearing. I don't realise who that person is until the raw shriek is replaced by the burning sensation scratching at my throat from creating such an unforgettable sound. Numb. I'm numb, paralysed and helpless. Nearing the ground at a speed which would make me crack and spatter over the ground like gory masterpiece. I can half-imagine the cracking of my bones and the way my organs will puncture and spill blood across nature's green earth. Blackness clogs three quarters of my vision. The numbness is penetrated once by a feeling. The feeling is of my stomach kicking in the velocity I'm travelling at. Thrice it kicks. On the third my eyes close and all the lights go out…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Isn't it peculiar how the strangest of things can wake us up. For me it was the sound of my mother. Her voice was softened as she reads an extract of 'Tales of the Beetle and the Bard'. Her voice is a little dry but still just as comforting as ever before. I let the lull of her tone smoothen the way to consciousness. My head shoots with a dulled pain and I have to stay very still to keep from making it any worse. My eyes open with a flutter and I'm momentarily disoriented with my surroundings. I stiffen at the sight of the white clinical walls and sparse furniture. A curtain separates my bed from what's outside limiting me to this little bubble of space and time. Mum finishes her story and takes my hand in hers. She squeezes it lightly, eyes both worried and sad. "Rose, sweetie? Are you fully awake?" I open my mouth to speak and am startles when my vocal cords won't cooperate with me. They feel scraped raw and painful. My head throbs again, reminding me of some of the events. _The dementors, oh dear Merlin, what happened to me?_

My eyes plead with my mum to tell me what happened, how I'm not a cracked egg right now and why the heck I can't speak. I make to sit up but my limbs feel heavy and detached. _What's happening? Why can't I move!?_ My eyes grow rounder and more panicked. I try to speak over and over again but this awful gurgling comes out instead. _Please help me. Please say I'm not paralysed or something equally as terrifying._ My thoughts beg. Mum's eyes are watery and she swallows hard as she tries to respond to my incomprehensible questions.

"Rose, please calm down. Everything's going to be okay. I promise." My gargles become more urgent and I try thrashing against my quilt. My muscles spasm. I'm horrified by all this and I can't stop and 'calm down' as my mother suggested. I'm way too into freak out mode and not taking the situation as well as I might've done normally. I hear the shouting of a nurse. My body twitching, twitching, twitching. _Help me!_ I scream internally. I feel the sharp sting of a needle in my neck. And once again, I fade back into unconsciousness.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next time I wake up I allow myself to remember the past events before opening my eyes. This way I'm much more calmer as I register the paralysis of the majority of my body and the dull throbbing and clinical surroundings. There is a Healer waiting for me at the foot of my bed, checking my vitals and whatnot. When I crane my neck a little I can see the red hair of the Weasley clan through the glass screen, which has replaced the curtain from my last room placement. I take a moment to take deep breaths and collect myself. When the Healer notices this he approaches me and hovers over my broken form with a textbook 'reassuring' expression on his face. It does not reassure me in the slightest.

"Hello Rose. My name is Trilby, yes- much like the hat, and I am your designated healer." I open my mouth only to be interrupted by 'Trilby'- "No, no. You needn't try and speak just yet. First I will explain what has happened to you and what we are doing right now to help you. Do you understand?" I nod, pushing aside my natural response of rolling my eyes. I do not like his patronising tone but seen as though I'm in a hospital bed under his care and scrutiny, I'm smart enough to keep my snark contained for now.

"You were admitted to St Mungos two days ago after an accident which happened while you were playing Quidditch." my eyes narrow at this. _Accident? So, it was an *accident* which caused the dementors to gang up on me?_ The healer blathers on; "You have sustained some damage from the affair-" _No freaking duh, "_ -and have ended up with some slight damage to the vocal cords- which will pass within an estimated two weeks-, three cracked ribs, some internal bleeding and a sprained wrist and ankle." My thoughts that follow this come in this exact order. A) _Fuck, this isn't good_ and B) _How am I alive right now?_ And C) _How do I feel paralysed if I've only sustained this amount of damage?_

I try move my muscles again but they won't cooperate. From the neck down I'm essentially numb and the best I can do is waggling my toes and my fingertips.

"The medication we gave you after you were admitted has side-effects of muscle paralysis. But not to worry, we have stopped administering it and you are just on an IV drip and pain medication for now, as you begin to heal." I want to ask him how long I'll be staying here. What happened after I fell from my broom? What happened to the dementors? Are my family entirely safe? And a hundred more but I'm restricted to a hoarse growling which makes the patronizing stupid-named healer laugh. _The psychopath._

He leaves shortly after this and I'm left alone with my own thoughts for awhile. Fortunately, I'm much quickly preoccupied with the horde of family which stream in to visit me and I'm glad that they help keep my thoughts at bay. Hugo is the first to enter, with mum holding his hand. He natters on at me about Tinker being bullied by the garden gnomes and how he saw this new film all about dinosaurs while mummy and the doctors 'put me to sleep'. My mother holds my hand and when she sits she responds to my questioning look with an apologetic; "Your dad had to go down to the Joke shop for that special Boxing day sale they set up." My hurt matches the ache in my ribs. I could really use one of dad's jokes right now. Next in is Uncle Harry with a bouquet of- yep, you guessed it- roses. These were a pretty lilac colour and I appreciated him not giving me the red ones. They would have only caused me to have been reminded of my un-Gryffindor-ness. Or whatever.

"Hey. Rosie Posie." Uncle Harry had greeted upon entering. I'd tilted my head in acknowledgement and mustered up a polite smile. His messy black hair sticks up in odd angles like usual and Hugo laughs from mum's lap at the funny sight. Harry pushed his spectacles up his nose and sits next to mum, giving her shoulder a friendly squeeze when Hugo is telling the tale of the 'yuckiness of hospital food'. She smiles at him in thanks.

A few minutes after this: Grandma and Granddad come in with some hot beverages and I'm pleasantly surprised at how senior Molly got ahold of some hot green tea for me to drink. The liquid massages my wearied vocal cards though I have to drink slowly to avoid spillages or coughing fits. One by one my family members come to talk to me, talking of Quidditch scores, christmas presents, funny stories and so on… However, not one of them mentions what happened after my fall which is what I want to know the most of all. Louis comes close to telling me by starting by saying "It was really lucky how-" but he was cut off by a sharp elbow from James. I wished I could speak to them all. I'd never been more aware of how much I like to speak. Or move. Or do anything besides lay there and smile and nod like some cartoonish Noddy. I hated it. I despised it.

The room got darker and magical lamps lit the small room I'd been designated. Little by little my family drifted away to go back to the Burrow. Mum decided she wanted to stay with me and asked Dominique- my last cousin to leave me- if she would kindly escort my little brother back to the Burrow. Dom agreed and it was finally just me and mum. I apologise with my eyes, glad that the paralysis hd worn off enough that my arms could move and my legs were rapidly becoming sensory again. I squeeze her hand in mine. I mouth the words: "I'm fine." at her. Brown frizzy hair is pushed behind her ear. Her shoulders are slumped in tiredness and concern. I'm sad that my mother has been reduced to this. Especially during the christmas season. Raising a trembling hand I mime writing and she obediently fetches me both pen and paper. It's hard to write but I manage the shaky word on the paper which stays firm above me.

My handwriting resembles a five-year-olds. "Sing." is what it says. She knows instinctively what I want her to do. Her frown melts into a warm, loving smile and her voice winds around me like a fluffy blanket. Our lullaby; the one she created when I was teething as a baby, gentles me. It calms me and sends me into a peaceful slumber:

 _My little Rose,_

 _So sharp and sweet._

 _With fiery curls_

 _And tiny feet._

 _A beauty in her eyes,_

 _I say._

 _Brighter than the skies_

 _In day._

 _She's wonder,_

 _Magic_

 _Pure and fair._

 _Nothing else_

 _Can quite_

 _Compare._

 _So darling Rose_

 _Please rest your head_

 _It's time for you_

 _To go to bed._

By the final verse I'm fast asleep. Already entwined in dreams as vivid and imaginative as a spectrum of colours in a prism.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Yayyy! Thank y'all for reading this story so far! I've almost reached 500 views and I'm absolutely ecstatic over it- Honeydukes chocolates to all of you! :) Anyways, sorry about uploading this late but school kinda swamped me, as did my work experience paperwork and stuff. Advancements in the plot and should I do hints? Why not? Three words it is: mess, scorpius, warning. Enjoy!**

Over the next week I gradually heal and begin to feel better. After only a few days after that I was discharged from St Mungos Hospital and taken back to the Burrow where I was coddled by Grandma and my mum. Grandma Molly would always prop me up against my mother's bed with tons of cushions and bring me cups of tea. I couldn't yet speak- which sucked- but I had full cooperation of my limbs and my sprained ankle and wrist were bandaged to alleviate the pressure. My bruised ribs only hurt when I laughed or did anything strenuous breathing wise, so I tended to avoid running or anything (not that I was allowed under Grandma's watchful eye). Being bed-ridden gave me time to finish off some of my muggle fiction books and a couple of textbook chapters for my lessons ahead. When I got _really_ bored I even read up on some of the Herbology plant matter we were studying at school. Reading distracted me from the sounds of my family having fun. Though some of them tried to 'tone it down' or whatever, I could still hear their whoops and chattering, gossip and taunting one another through the thin walls.

To stop me from getting lonely Dominique would sit by my bed and read her poetry books that she was into. If she wasn't reading she'd use her new magical music playing system which played practically every song it was exposed to. She's programmed it to play sme of her tunes and so The Strokes and Oasis were often singing along when she was present. I didn't really mind the time in the room. It was comfortable, I had everything at my beck and call and I had none of the drama that seemed to stalk me. The thing was I wanted- I _needed-_ to know what had gone on that day on the Quidditch pitch. I needed to know why the dementors were there, why they had chased me of all people and what had happened when I'd lost consciousness. From time to time I would take out the ring, which I'd strung on a piece of string to hang around my neck- and stare at the onyx 'S' , wondering of it's true whereabouts. However every time a person came into the room I would quickly hide it back under my shirt for some reason which was unbeknown to me.

The day I had to return to Hogwarts I could be found peering over Roxy's shoulder in the frantic kitchen as she marks ink all across cut out articles of _Witch Weekly._ Roxy's blue leather jacket and snakeskin mini-skirt draw my eye briefly before I return to the task she's concentrating on.

"What are you doing?" I write on a piece of paper containing a cat doodle, hovering for a couple moments longer before having to step back to avoid being struck by Lucy who's cartwheeling around the floor space. Roxy sucks on the end of her quill, dark kohl-rimmed eyes intense. She doesn't look up as she replies:

"I'm reading through some of the Stephanie Melstrom articles and trying to tell which are fact and fiction." I weave around a harassed-looking Audrey to pick up an apple from the fruit bowl.

"Why?" James queries from across the table. I'm frowning between the pink lady and granny smith apples, struck once again by a familiar bout of indecision. Roxy's eyes lift to meet his and she grins wolfishly when she tells us; "It's interesting to survey how easily the people follow this bullshit. Also makes for a pretty good hobby, y'know?"

"You mean besides snogging people's faces off?" Fred retorts sarcastically, making a gagging gesture which I can't help but smile at. She cuffs the back of his head from his seat near hers.

I decide on the granny smith, liking the pretty green skin on it. I toss it in the air in an exaggerated spin and Hugo catches it, appearing from behind me and only stopping to say 'Hi' and throwing me the apple, before dashing off to find his new trainers.

"Har har, very funny." Roxy snarks at her brother, "But- being serious- look at this article. It says: _Muggle fashion is destroying our own! Watch how the Lovegood's bizarre clothing is spreading to unrest throughout Britain"_ I bite into my apple, savouring the crisp and juicy taste of the fruit. Luna floats in, looking all the world as weird and wonderful as she usually does. Her long dirty blonde hair is in one plait with feathers and bottle tops threaded within, a daisy chain atop her head and being clothed in a flowy lilac dress. The coincidence is quite… Well, quite _Luna_ of her.

"Hm. How odd. I cannot remember my clothes being in the papers before." she muses as she glides by. Her feet are clad in sandals with little bits of random stuff stuck to them. Beads, thread, ribbon, fluff and flowers. She does not look at us as she speaks she kind of just directs the statement into the air and I wonder who she is directing it at. Roxy nods her head, expression serious as James and Fred laugh; "Apparently you and your muggle-like clothing are making wizards and witches unhappy." Luna's silvery blue eyes meet Roxy'. We stare in awe as the mysterious woman cautions "You should not take rumours seriously. They do not and never should affect your views on the world." The heavy silence is broken when the Scamander twins enter the kitchen. Lorcan's face lights up at the scene and he saunters over to his mother to place a kiss on her cheek.

"Isn't it a little too early to quote your wisdom sayings?" he teases, lightly. Luna smiles a little at her son but doesn't seem to feel the need to respond to that question- perhaps thinking of it as rhetorical. I bite more on my apple and force myself not to look over at Lysander. Unfortunately my restraint is in vain when I feel his eyes on me and I am powerless to stop from looking up. His hair is falling over his eyes a little and his stare is intense and focused. A little _too focused_ for my liking.

Tossing my apple core into the bin I turn to leave, knowing that I cannot contribute to the conversation and wanting to check whether my Hogwarts trunk is all ready for me to go. A word from one of the clipping catches my eye and I waver for a moment.

"-what are you going to do with them?" James points to the articles. I inch closer and squint my eyes to make out the full headline that intrigues me. In black and white print is " _Are the Malfoy's consorting with-"_

"Watch this!" Roxy exclaims.

" _-the likes of former Death Eaters in revenge for-"_

Black powder hides he rest from view and spiky orange tongues of flames strike up on contact with the paper, turning them all to ash. Lucy squeals in fright, stumbling backwards into Lorcan and making him bump into a wall. A puff of acrid grey smoke billows from the flaming paper and I'm worried about the wooden table, thinking that it might catch aflame. I rush to the sink just as the crinkled paper spreads the flame. Uncle Charlie looks up from the washing up and takes the bucket of dirty water and impulsively plonks it over the table drenching both the food and our clothes. Luna stifles a giggle at this and my cousins all look a range between amused and disgusted at having their toast crusts and scrambled eggs swim across the table. The kitchen goes deathly silent. Grandad opens his mouth, gawping: "We'd best clear up before Molly sees this." Everyone winces at the idea of Grandma seeing such a sight and the explosion which would come shortly after. Roxy has guilt painted across her face at the mess she's helped create. Victoire is unfortunately not present to hop about like a madwoman as her clothes get wet. _Shame,_ I think sadly. James raises his wand and I lunge at it, shaking my head furiously. He looks confused and I try mouth out the dialogue I want to say. But without my damn vocal cords working and me speaking too fast he looks blankly at me. I spin around, searching for a translator. Fred steps in helpfully and reminds him that "We're not allowed to use magic off of school grounds." The realisation hits me that I technically broke a law when I shot a spell at the dementor a couple of weeks ago. _How come I'm not in trouble then? Is it because of them usually being in Azkaban? Or is it some kind of 'Weasley' reputation which gives me a free-pass._ I dislike the former thought- that I could bypass the law because of my parents 'Golden' status. It's not a fair way to live, if you think about it. James lowers his wand and I return to the present. Lorcan commandeers the situation. He commands that Lucy and Hugo go keep grandma occupied. Fred is a lookout. The rest of us are on cleaning duties. Granddad fetches the mopa and I take reign over cleaning the floor as the kitchen table is swamped with enough tissue paper to recreate an Egyptian mummy.

By the time that Grandma does enter not one wet spot can be seen and the floor is clear. She cuts her conversation when we simultaneously smile at her. Her eyes flit between us suspiciously.

"What have you done now?" she sighs at James and Fred. They shake their heads,

"Nothing grandma, we promise." With a drawn out pause for her to check them both from toe to crown, she bursts back into conversation-

"We need to leave for Hogwarts now if we're going to make it for the train. I packed enough sandwiches- cheese and ham, tuna mayo and chicken salad for the kids- and I'm _sure_ I got all the trunks into that special ride that you ordered, Arthur, dear." She breaks off and frowns. Noticing something.

"Why is the floor all shiny? And is Roxy fidgeting so much?" We all answer her at once-

"Rose was mopping-"

"It seemed too dirty so-"

"I don't look guilty-"

"She [Roxy] probably broke a nail or something-"

"Did you know that when Hippos are upset their sweat turns red?" Molly holds up her hands in a 'quieten down' gesture and people do as she requests.

"That's lovely, dear." she tells Hugo who'd blurted some random fact. He begins to spout another of his endless font on nature knowledge but is cut off by Grandma who jabs a finger at Roxy in a semi-threatening manner.

"You tell me what happened, missy." she demands. Roxy, in all her badass glory, visibly gulps.

"Umm…" she starts. James shakes his head: no. Granddad nods: yes.

"Cat got your tongue?" Angelina remarks, coming in from the hallway. Though Angelina is best known for her Quidditch skills and her African-princess looks, she certainly didn't marry a joker to be fooled by her children. She assesses the scene and swipes a finger over the tiniest specks of black powder then strides over to the bin. Her eyes are scornful when she reprimands her daughter; "Roxanne Weasley. Did you use one of your father's untested products on the kitchen table and cause it to ruin the breakfast items!?" Roxanne's are shut tight but her eyes plead guilty. Grandma gasps. "Oh dear." she shakes her head, looking at the table and waving her wand to enchant a sponge to wipe it down again.

Uncle Harry ambles in laughing with Uncle George about something. Angelina pins her husband with a sharp glare.

"Hi honey..?" Uncle George starts off tremulously. Angelina crosses her arms; "Did you give our daughter that powder which is meant to create small bursts of light and heat before dis

integrating?" Uncle George's look morphs into an exact replicate of Roxy's.

"Umm…" he starts. Angelina gives him a bigger telling off than their daughter By the end of it George is rosy-faced and weakly smiling. The two leave the room hand in hand though, chattering and smiling over 'that time when Fred was testing out the goldfish spy cameras and ended up with his face squished down the toilet.' Luna Lovegood touches Lysander's forearm nearing the end of the commotion, when everyone's started to get out of their places and put coats on and etc. I eavesdrop because… Well, because I'm curious. I've always been a slave to my curiosity.

"You must not share the things you have seen. I know you want to but you mustn't." she articulates. Lysander's eyes flicker for a moment. I cannot place what it is I've seen and it passes too quick for me to be fully assured it was there. His shoulders slump for a second. "I'm not sure whether I can keep it all a secret. The things I've seen...They haunt me, mother." his dreamy voice vocalizes, a melancholy tinge thrumming like a distant melody. Luna's pale lips press a kiss onto his forehead.

"Have strength, child. When the light fades there will still be hope." The cryptic conversation is left at that. Lorcan fetches his twin from his mother and the two join the stream of family members exiting the door.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Boarding the train was chaos. We had to sprint to catch the crimson train then drag ourselves from hugs and kisses and hand-luggage shoved upon us. When I stagger past the open and close train doors, I have to stop for a moment to catch my breath. My ribs hurt and each breath seems too shallow or too painful for my liking. I push through it and walk wobbly across the passageway to find a free compartment. I pass the carriages of older year students and through one window see Teddy sketching on his pad while his friends play a game of exploding snap. I walk onwards. There's no sign of Kat or Nick and nearing the middle of the compartment an unwelcome thought occurs to me; _What if my friends aren't on the train? What will I do then?_

The train starts chugging along faster and I hold a hand to a compartment to stop from tripping or something. The carriage door is not shut properly though and I fall through, tripping over my laces and unelegantly landing on someone's breath whooshes from my body. The knees of said person are clad in black jeans. My ribs not-so-kindly remind me of their damaged state and I'm completely and utterly stuck. When I try and sit up my ribs scream in protest.

"Oh my." a familiar voice comments. Silver eyes look down at me. "What do we have here?"

I open my mouth but then remember the dilemma of my vocal cords and shut it with a snap. My back is splayed across none other than Scorpius Malfoy' lap and he appears to not be bothered in the slightest. "Would you like a humbug?" he questions, using a hand to show me the black and white striped boiled mint. I'm confused. _Why is he not doing anything? Besides offering a bloody sweet? Can't he see that I'm immobile over here?_

I shake my head, turning my head to see who else is in the carriage. There's noone but us which feels both a mercy and a burden. I clench my teeth as I try and sit up but a small whimper and a small scraping noise forces me back down again. Scorpius pops a sweet in his mouth, eyes distant for a moment. "I heard that you'd been hospitalized," he announces, "However the details on _how_ were… How do you put it? Sketchy? Unclear." he nods to himself, looking down at me and assessing my body in a calculative way. With a hand I point to my throat then zip my lips.

"You can't speak." he vocaizes. I nod. "Hmm, that will make for an interesting time at school." Feeling a little offended by his off-hand words, thinking he meant that me not speaking was a good thing, I shoot him an incredulous glare. He chuckles and I suppress the urge to shiver at the mystery his laugh emanates. I take another survey of the carriage compartment, thinking.

"Kat, in case you were wondering, is on the train as well. She's-" he hesitates for a moment and his voice loses all of its mirth, "-not the happiest at the moment, so it might be best to avoid her." My face is a question mark. I actually _had_ been wondering where my Ravenclaw saviour had gotten to. Thankfully, Scorpius appears to be in a gracious mood and elaborates a little: "The debutante ball was a little disastrous for her. Afterwards she was heard screaming all across my parents manor how-"

" _The next time I see him I'm going to be hexing that bastard until he begs for mercy."_ Kat finishes, stomping into the room breaking her cross face only to cast a curious glance at me. She clomps over to the opposite side and tosses her dark hair back in a fitful burst of energy.

"It's true. That bastard deserves to be castrated." she says with a dark look.

Scorpius waves a lazy hand over my reclining form, explaining that I'd had some accident and now my ribcage was injured and vocal cords playing hide and seek. Obviously he didn't use the words 'hide and seek' but, to paraphrase, that as the gist of it.

Kat gives me a sympathetic look and I smile at her then make a gesture to prompt her to speak. She twirls a strand of her hair around one finger and taps her knee in mild agitation.

"Basically," she begins, "The debutante ball was a complete flop. My mother made me repeatedly dance with that _bastard_ who kept giving me sleazy grins and putting his hands on my bum!" Scorpius' eyes glitter in triumph and smugness.

"I told you so." he drawls, flashing a half-smile at his cousin. Kat raises her wand arm threateningly.

"Don't make me hex you too." she warns him. In response, he rolls his sweet across his tongue and rolls his beautiful eyes. I turn my attention back to Kat. Her eyes mee mine and she reluctantly admits that the ' _bastard'_ was, of course, Baxter Higgs, the cowardly slimy suck-up boy in our year who spread nasty rumours and bullied other people with his two idols: Crabbe and Goyle. I shudder and curl my lip at the thought of having to spend time with the despicable boy. He was possibly more aggravating than Sebastian Krum, my newfound nemesis. I open my mouth to mouth more questions but am shocked when Scorpius presses a sweet into my mouth and give him my famous 'what the heck' look. He shrugs with that aristocratic nonchalance.

"You ask too many questions." is his only answer. Kat proceeds to tell me the entire storyline to one of the books she's recently read and I listen to her Christmas list and let my mind wander. _I wonder whether Higgs and the other goons are gonna be a problem to me this year? So far they've been alright to duel with but what happens if I come to a physical fight with them? And what about Queen plastic and her minions? Vanessa doesn't yet know about me knowing of hers and Victoire's past, but what'll she do when she finds out? And what about what I did to her hair? I'm not sure whether she'd forgive me for something like that… No matter how much of a calm face she puts on show for me in public._

I suck on my sweet, frowning slightly. Kat clicks her fingers impatiently in my face.

"Rose? Were you listening?" she asks me, half-exasperated. I shrug, glad I'm not bound to speak words, for the first time since 'the accident'. Scorpius' lips quirk up in a half-smirk. He touches my hair and holds up one auburn curl to the light as if examining it. I bat his hand away and make to sit up. With a little help from Kat- who doesn't believe I was really listening to her- and Scorpius, I'm back into a normal seating position. Shortly afterwards, Kieran comes along and wordlessly Scorpius follows after his face, both looking a little worried over something.

Mid-way through her conversation on the Belgium chocolates she'd brought with her, I adjust my t-shirt and tug on the neckline to ease the tickling feeling my neck is feeling. It seems to have started just as Scorpius left the compartment and is only increasing. By accident my ring, the onyx one that I've kept on me at all times, slides over the top and Kat breaks off her dialogue to gasp at the item. My eyes lock on hers and I'm torn between hiding the ring and snapping it off my neck because that's where the irritation is coming from.

"Where did you get that ring?" she whispers, aghast. I mime pen and peper and Kat robotically gives me both things. In a steady hand I write that 'I found it by the river bank.' Kat sighs, relaxing against her seat, and even mustering up her sunny smile.

"That's fine," she proclaims, "For a moment you had me worried."

'Why' I scribble onto the paper. I hold it out to her. Her eyes fixate on mine and her voice is strangled.

"Rose, my mother… She is very good with antiques. In particular, she holds a fondness for rings. And that ring- the one you found by the river- is eerily similar to a very dark artifact that has been locked up in the Ministry under high security for the purpose of it never having been worn again."

'Is it evil?' I draw in the air. 'This dark artifact?'

"Yes and no... The ring itself is not evil but the bearer of the ring is supposedly gifted with very powerful abilities, abilities which no person or creature, wizard or witch should have."

'Like what?'

"It's very unheard of and perhaps only just a rumour. We don't know and no one cares to risk the Ministry's wrath in order to find out. But apparently… The ring can raise the dead."

My heart drops to my stomach. _This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This can't be happening._ Lysander and Lorcan' retelling of my prophecy makes me feel nauseous. I stand up, head whirring, body shivering despite the warmth. My ring- the ring that is _not the dark artifact one-_ scorches my skin and I only faintly hear Kat fret my name before I faint. Unconscious before I hear any more.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hey readers! Chapter 14 is out and I full on created an absolutely awesome chapter which is not bound to happen until later on in Rose's adventure. Anyhow, I've completely plotted Rose's first year at Hogwarts and because I start work experience this week (with only three hours per day *whoop whoop*) I may be updating a lot more chapters than usual over the course of this week... You know the drill of three word prompts :) :quietness, Alice, dementors. Have fun!**

Turns out that fainting atop of having sustained some banged up ribs, a sprained ankle and a sprained wrist only two weeks prior means that you are coddled by your friends and teachers until it feels almost as though you are suffocating. _Huh, who knew?_ Being what I called independent and what my brother, Hugo, liked to call 'anti-social', this did not go lightly with me. After all, how was I supposed to work with Kat constantly breathing down my neck or having Olivia asking me questions on my health. It was awful. I felt like I was five years old again and had just been forced to play with the other kids on the playground when all I actually wanted to do was to stay home and read my book. It was the nudging, the constant eyes pushing me on and the overprotective mom-like attitude that was driving me nuts.

Thankfully, we'd only had the Monday off to recover from the Christmas break before we were thrown back into classes again. I'm glad because this meant that I have less time around those watching eyes and more time to lose myself back into the familiar ink and paper routine. At least, that was what I was convincing myself of when I skipped down to breakfast on the Tuesday morning school was scheduled to start on.

"Somebody's chipper this morning." a sweet Italian voice remarks from our usual spot at the Breakfast table. I wave at Olivia Amello and Diamond Zabini from where they sit and slide into the bench across from them. Nick nods a greeting around his slice of toast from the left of me. Despite what my Healer- Trilby- _wow, talk about strange names!_ \- had said about me being able to talk after a fortnight of rest on said vocal cords, my throat was still achy so I swore to myself I would not speak unless I was in my dorm room, practising the physiotherapy techniques I was taught while in hospital. Instead, I smile in greeting.

Nick pours me a tall goblet of pumpkin juice, knowing me well enough to know that I would much prefer the coffee, yet being considerate enough to silently remind me that 'coffee stunts growth' and all that jazz. I roll my eyes but take the goblet and sip at the pulpy liquid. I've memorised my schedule and I know that first period Tuesday we have a DADA lesson and my spirits raise a little at that. I like the subject and I'm intrigued about all the different defence mechanisms which may just save our lives one day. I'm startled back to the present by Olivia patting my arm and showing me the breakfast that her and Diamond have just made up for me whilst I was thinking. It's a small bowl of fruit salad with all my favourite fruits peeking out from beneath the dollop of greek yoghurt above them. I spear a raspberry and pop it in my mouth, liking the freshness of the small delicacy. The two girls then continue their conversation, pretending they weren't looking at my every move as though I was going to dramatically faint right in front of them both. I skewer my kiwi with a little more force than normal.

"Did you hear the news about Professor Longbottom, though?" Diamond questions us all. Olivia's eyes light up and I follow her gaze to where the Herbology teacher sits chatting with Professor Sprout. I assess him and notice the way his face seems like it's glowing. It's happy- really, really happy- and the smile which is on his face is so broad it's a wonder that he isn't in pain. I shake my head and Nick mumbles 'No.' I glance at Nick, something in his tone is a little... Off. He looks healthy but glum and he keeps glancing at the Gryffindor table over Olivia's shoulder for some reason. I shrug it off and forget all about it when Olivia opens ups her mouth and blurts-

"His wife- you know, Hannah Abbott, the bar lady at the Three Broomsticks?- well, she's pregnant!" My jaw drops open. Nick stops glancing at the offending table as well and widens his eyes.

"Huh." he breathes. Diamond rolls her pretty almond eyes, laughing.

"Our hot Hogwarts teacher is having another child and all you can say is 'huh'?" Diamond sputters. Nick shrugs, cutting her a sly glance. "What did you expect me to say? I don't really gush like you two do." he points a finger at Diamond and Olivia and they both look affronted. I pick up the crust off of his plate and throw it at his head. Nick tosses a cheeky grin in return, ruffling my curls as though I were a child and stating: "Not you Rose. You don't gush. You're much more of a 'let's simmer until I explode into a ball of fury' kinda lady." Hmm. To stop myself from taking it as an insult I try taking it as a compliment and bob my head in acknowledgement.

"I do _not_ gush." Diamond argues. Olivia fidgets besides her, looking like a stereotypical Catholic girl with her curls in two little pigtails and her uniform as pristine as always.

"I...Sometimes gush." Olivia admits, bashfully. "But only if it involves cute shoes." she adds in a rush.

"Or boy bands." I add, raising a defiant eyebrow.

"Or Strictly Come dancing." Diamond inputs. At Olivia's betrayed look she slings an arm around her and says: "It's true though." Olivia wriggles from under her arm, blushing a rosy pink.

"But you just completely sold me out." she pouts.

"If it makes you feel any better, I suppose I sometimes- _occasionally-_ 'gush' about the same things as yoju do." Diamond concedes, biting a small jam tart pastry to keep from making to moment too 'personal' or whatever. Fortunately the bell rings and Diamond is saved from the Hallmark-card scene and we trail from our places to make class.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

D.A.D.A would have been absolutely great if it weren't for one boy. The Gryffindors had been joined up to our class today because apparently Van Der Birg was off 'visiting family' or whatever bullshit the Potion teacher had told staff to tell us. How did I know it was bullshit? Because I clearly remembered him telling the class of how his entire family resided in Sweden (or some Netherland country) and had wasted no time in saying that he hated every single member of them. _Lovely_ , I had thought sarcastically to myself at the time. However that is why I ended up in class with this boy. One arrogant, obnoxious, utterly aggravating, _idiot_ boy. Of course, this boy is Sebastian Krum and, for some reason unbeknownst to us, our teacher had decided it would be best for us to be paired up with one another, to work on some assignment over Goblins. It didn't help that I wouldn't speak and that the douchebag seemed to revel in that mere fact. His smirking face was the first thing I had the displeasure of seeing when he sidled up to my desk. I could faintly hear some Gryffindor airhead swooning over him and I briefly felt the urge to slap some sense into the girl; before wisely remembering I still was not completely healed yet. A fight would most likely end in much more pain from me so I knew I couldn't risk it. The entertaining but brief thought faded when he sat down.

"Hey Rosie Posie." The words roll around on his tongue before he says them, as though he's evaluating the feel and taste of them. He knows I hate it when he, in particular, calls me that name. He also knows that my vocal cords are skewed. "What? Nothing to say to me?" he jibes, leaning closer to me and testing my patience some. I keep my eyes focused on the board where Miss is writing down our instructions, trying in vain for the prick to shut the hell up.

"I think I prefer you silent." he comments, in what disturbingly sounds like an honest tone of voice. "It shows you do hold the capacity to be submissive." My glare is vicious. As is the pinch I inflict on his hand.

"Ow!" he howls. The class whirls to face us and I paint the most innocent expression I can across my face. Sebastian rubs his hand and furrows those thick bushy eyebrows in confusion.

"Is everything alright back there?" the Professor's stern voice calls out. I subtly dig my elbow into Krum's ribs and am amused when he grunts.

"Actually, no. Not everything is alright. Rose clearly can't keep her hands to herself." In an excessive use of force, Se-bastard grabs my wrists and shoves them into the air for the whole class to see. My shocked look is genuine. _Wow, I never knew that Krum was a tattle-tail._ Somehow, I'd tagged him as having more pride than telling the teacher when something didn't go his way. _Guess I was wrong_.

What Miss says next makes me have to fake-cough to cover up a laugh.

"To be perfectly honest, Mr Krum, it looks more like it is you who cannot keep his hands to himself." He drops my hands like they've just just scalded him and the Slytherins hide their smirks and mutterings behind their hands. The Gryffindors look upset of their Golden boy being knocked off his self-made pedestal and made to look like a moron by the teacher. I, myself, can't help but whisper a smug 'yeah, Krum. Best keep those hands where we can all see them' under my breath. He scowls back at me. Thankfully after that, Krum shuts up and lets me get on with my work. I'm happy with the unexpectedly great start to my day...

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lunchtime is only eventful by me getting a letter. I'm listening idly as Diamond and Olivia discuss whether or not Professor Binns had had a wife when he was alive (Olivia said yes, Diamond argued that he was too 'old and boring' to have been in love), when a school owl had swooped low and dropped a small package onto my plate. I extract the package from off of my tuna pasta bake and hold it between my index finger and thumb in speculation.

"What's that?" Nick gestures to the package. I meet his warm eyes and shrug: I don't know. There's an envelope attached to it and I open this first. I beam down at the sparkly blue gel pel writing and I realise who it is from. The curly letters are clear-proof my muggle friend has well-mastered sending owls to and fro. I read the card, smiling, then pass it to Nick so he can recite the message for my other friends.

" _Dear Rose,_

 _I'm sorry that I haven't wrote to you in a couple of weeks but my Irish nanna- the one who me and my parents were visiting over the Christmas break- said that owls were 'minions of the devil' and that using them for communication was 'immoral to Christ' or something along those lines. Of course my parents backed her up because of her ill health, which sucked cause I really did want to write to you over the break, 'specially when your letter said about that Dementor attack! I'd have been soo scared if that were me. I hope you're okay. Those creepy ghosty things should go back under the hole they crawled out from-"_

Diamond nods appreciatively and Nick even smiles a little as he feels Alice's indignation through her words. He clears his throat a little before he continues- " _Anyway, I'm glad that you were well enough to go back to magic school (you're so lucky! High school is pretty rubbish- all anyone talks about is One Direction and what happened last night on 'The X Factor'. I miss you like crazy…). Perhaps we could arrange a sleepover for over the next holidays? We could play tig and go to the swimming baths like we did last time. Remember last christmas? How me, you and Hugo would set up tea parties for all my stuffed toys and your cats. Remember how funny Crookshanks looked when you somehow persuaded him into that bright pink tutu! Oh dear, I'm being too… What's the word? Nastalic? Nostilgic? Nostalgic? I dunno. The one that means 'stuck in the past' or so my English teacher tells me. I need to finish this letter cos mum just shouted me down for tea and I'm pretty sure tonight we're having Chicken and leek pie :). Please keep me updated and I will do the same._

 _Lots of love, Alice xxx"_

Nick folds the letter back up and passes it back to me. I tuck it into my robes and try determine my friend's reactions. Olivia seems touched by Alice's words and also a little bemused by them. Talking of bemused, Nick also wears a confused expression, wondering aloud: "What's One Direction? What is 'X factor'? Do muggles really dress up cats at their dinner parties?". I try explain best I can about muggle boy bands and 'tea parties do not usually involve cats in tutus' but writing the words only triggered more questions from the naturally curious boy. Diamond was frowning. I don't know whether she was jealous of my muggle friend being so close to me or something else which was niggling away at her but I didn't have the capacity to voice these questions so I let them remain in my head for a later time.

Mostly, I'm thinking of Alice. How she sounded wistful and upset by her new secondary school. _I hope she finds some new friends there. Merlin knows how badly my school year would've been without Kat and my dorm mates to shield me from the new change! I genuinely don't think I could've been able to reign in my panic attacks without Nick's hand in mine. Or have been prompted to listen in Herbology class without an elbow-nudge from Diamond. And how on earth would I have come to some form of acceptance of my House without Kat being there to give me pep talks and ward off the majority of nasty rumours._

I leave my plate of food and my friend's questions and head to the library to think. The noise of the Great Hall dims to a muffled murmur when the large doors swing closed behind me. I take peace in the long winding hallways and the many portraits chatter. The stained glass hallways near the courtyards beckon me but I know that I'm not feeling sociable enough to join the students who have already eaten their lunch. Students aren't technically meant to wander around the halls unless one has a true purpose for doing so. I justify myself by heading to the library and am glad that I'm excused from talking by my vocal cords. When I reach the library, I inhale deeply, liking the scent of musty books and the sounds of scratching parchment. I walk leisurely past Madam Pince and find myself a private table near the back of the expansive room. At the table I place my satchel down and seat myself, finally able to relax my mind and be transported through my memories back to the day Alice mentioned in her letter…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

" _Rose! Wha-how..?" Alice exclaims, stifling her giggles._

" _Ta Da!" I beam, revealing a seriously pissed-off Crookshanks in one of Lily's tutus. The grumpy furball complains at me, in a "mee-uf-ow" grumble. Hugo peeks out at us from behind a tree, cheeks flushed and ginger hair ruffled by the wintry breeze. He looks like a small, adorable snowman in his big black puffer coat. "The table is set up." an eight year old Hugo grins, behind a gap in his front teeth. The words have a faint lisp because of the gap, making his 's' more like a 'thh'. His front baby teeth have finally dropped out and his 'adult teeth' are beginning to grow. He points at Crookshanks and immediately scampers over to examine the family cat._

" _Whoa, Rosie. How did you get him into that?" he yips, excitedly. I tab the side of my nose in a classic 'that's for me to know' example. Crookshanks huffs out a sigh and I'm eerily reminded of mum's tired sigh. They sound very similar. Alice pats Crookshanks head, timidly, using her mittens just in case the cat turns savage._

" _Let's go." I command. Reaching the table, I gently place Crooks on a chair and marvel at the way Hugo has arrayed the set-up. He's actually followed my instruction for once and put the white knitted table cloth over the small plastic table. He's put the knives and forks in the correct positions and placed the tea cups and chairs where I'd drawn them on a piece of paper to be. Alice places the wicker basket gently on top and we share a conspiratorial smile._

" _Why are we doing this?" Hugo pipes up from his seat next to my striped tabby cat: Tiger. Alice lays out an assortment of goods and places in front of me, Hugo and herself some turkey sandwiches that her mum had packed us. She pulls out of a tupperware box some leftovers from her Christmas meal- along with some ham and chicken tidbits we'd begged from our parents- onto Crookshanks, Tiger and Nero's plates. The cats all sniff at their food, eyeing us warily. Nero coughs and I briefly fret whether he's gonna cough up a hairball._

" _Play the music, please." Alice presses play on her brand new radio and some generic pop song bursts through. She shuffles it into a hip hop station and amusingly Tiger gets onto two paws at the song. I laugh at how the other cats waste no time to tuck into their meaty meals and me, Hugo and Alice follow example by using our cutlery and acting all posh as we take small bites from our sandwiches and pretend to be civilised children. Hugo is the first to crack, his small boyish face creases in concentration then transforms into one of complete hysterics when Crookshanks me-uf-ow's when the radio presenter asks the question "So who on this station is having a BLAST!?" Alice shortly follows, sputtering on her flask of herbal tea and scaring Nero, who raises his tail in indignation before padding back in the snow back to my house. My grin is twitching at my lips. I want to laugh- I do, especially with my two closest people in hysterics around me- but I recall the challenge as clear as if it was issued this morning (which it wasn't). I remember Hugo snorting at my statement that "I can last a whole tea party acting like a civilised young lady". Alice had been amused but supportive of my silly little mission, hence why were in this particular situation. I pick up my napkin. I dab at the corners of my lips and readjust my back. I've finished my turkey sandwich. All I need to finish is my chocolate chip cookie and my cup of tea (which is really just apple juice because it tastes nicer than tea). The cookie crumbles in my mouth and I ignore the two excitable children besides me._

 _I imagine I'm a true lady sat at a real dinner table with my finest companions around me. In my mind Alice is called Lady Alice and Hugo: Sir Hugo. I pretend that Alice's mittens are silk gloves and her frock is a ballgown. I imagine Hugo's woolly hat to be a top hat and his watch, a silver pocket watch. I imagine that my cats can talk and they are using their utensils instead of just snuffling everything up using their faces and I wonder… I wonder whether I'll ever be sat at such a table with such people of high-status. Sure, mum had her own job at the ministry and her job did sometimes consist of hosting speeches and whatnot at rented out places, along with fancy dinners to go along with her 'petitions for justice'. But I was never invited to those. They were 'adult only'. Or so I'd been told._

 _I sip my apple juice and eat my cookie and stand up with a triumphant smile. I'm truly ready to claim my win and laugh at Hugo- who's even said he'd give me his Honeydukes chocolate frog cards rare edition Nicholas Flamel card if I won. The words are on my tongue, waiting to be said, until everything goes a little bit wrong. My foot catches on the woolen table cloth and I slip and fall. Hugo dives to push me out of the way and Alice gasps in horror. We land and I hear the ominous sounds of crashing china hit the forest floor. Hugo diverted us both onto a grassier area and so I was less damaged than I'd originally anticipated. My hands sting from cuts and my legs are a little bruised but overall I'm fine. As is Hugo. Sadly, mum's special china tea set is not._

" _Shit." I mutter. Hugo bites his lip, eyes a little worried. Alice comes up to me and locks her fingers with mine._

" _It'll be okay, Rose. It'll be fine." Her positivity lessens a bit of my shame and guilt, though I do feel really crappy about breaking such pretty teacups and plates. My cats saunter home and I try my best to gather up the piece. Hugo and Alice help and I'm grateful for their wordless support. When I'm outside my front door, I take a deep breath, knowing I'll receive a disappointed lecture from my mother and possibly a ban on my books for a couple of days (if she's really really upset)._

" _Chin up." Alice advises. I cast a smile and am relieved by the empathy the muggle girl radiates._

 _Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Albus is the one to shake me of my memory. His emerald eyes are fascinated by what I presume was my trance-like state, though he jumps when I'm fully aware. His eyes flit about nervously and I remember how odd he acted the last time I'd talked to him in school as well. How he'd disappeared during my duelling with Crabbe, Goyle and Higgs.

"Listen, Rose. I only really, uh, came over here because…" his fingers twitch and he seems jumpy. Nervous. I frown, trying, not for the first time, to see what it is wrong with my cousin.

"Because?" I mouth. Albus sighs and takes a seat next to me.

"Well, I'm sure you're curious about what happened after your dementor attack. I know you Rose. I know you won't be happy until you know things. And even then you only want to find out more…" his lips quirked up in an almost-smile. It disappears too quickly for me to be at ease. "So, I decided that I should tell you. You may be a snake but you're also family. I don't understand why you were sorted that way but I just- I just…" his eyes turn a little haunted. Pained. It's too much like the pain he olds in my nightmare for my liking. I place a hand on his arm and he jumps about a foot. He flinches away from me and it would be a lie if I didn't say I wasn't a little bit hurt by his strange behaviour. His words are a rush; he doesn't want to be here any more than he has to be. Nor does he wish to be spotted, from the way his eyes glance around the library, paranoid.

"Dad told me that the Dementors had escaped from Azkaban because they had sensed that a prisoner had escaped, though when the Aurors had checked no one had been missing from their cells and it was all a big misunderstanding. Anyway, the Dementors had apparently felt some sort of signal which had lead them to The Burrow. No one is sure why they'd targeted you but that was where the supposed 'signal' had stemmed from. They's given chase while me and the others had landed then you'd headed towards land and eventually fell off your broom. Mum had flown up with Angelina to cast their shielding patronus' to ward them off and dad had slowed your descent, though you did still sustain some damage. It was Uncle Charlie who'd summoned some humongous dragon patronus which had held them off long enough for Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron to transport you to St Mungos via Floo powder. The Ministry officials were called and the Dementors were sent back to Azkaban under strict orders never to disturb you, or the rest of us Weasley-Potter clan, or else." I absorb the words, I look over at the window. My hand unconsciously moves to the string around my neck and the ring that dangles there. _A signal, huh? What sort of signal?_

"Who did the Dementors think had escaped Azkaban?" I wonder aloud. Upon getting no response, I turn around. I'm not as surprised as I could've been over finding Albus had gone. I was talking to empty space.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Chapter fifteen is here early *gasps are heard in the audience*... I know, I know: me updating an early chapter is very uncommon. However, I do have my plot for the entirety of year 1 and because I created a truly kickass scene (if I do say so myself) that comes much later on, I'm trying to get year 1 moving along much quicker than usual (plus my three hours of work per day are pretty handy when writing chapters and all... Y'know work experience and stuff..). No hints for this one because it's mostly just some fluff...**

The day was so much better than I'd anticipated. The day where I matured just that little bit more. The day I was to become twelve years old had come and I was _so hyped_ about it. It was my birthday and I swear I shocked the entire Great Hall by how good a mood I was in. Especially for it being a Monday morning. As well as it _also_ being the day of my pre-exam Potions practical. My vocal cords, ribs, ankle and wrist had long since healed and I was nearly bouncing down to my seat next to Nick.

"What happened to Rose?" Nick says in a stage-whisper. Diamond rolls her eyes at his display: "We suspect martians."

"Body snatchers or her being possessed." Olivia chirps up. I ignore them all, helping myself to a large slab of fruitcake and a coffee. My hair is pinned into a messy bun, using a few ancient-looking crystal adorned pins my mother had gotten me last year. Adelaide Jordan sits down next to me, looking stressed and helpless under her small stack of Potion library books.

"Good morning." I greet her, causing the Jordan girl to look shocked and do a double take.

 _Geez, am I really that bad?_ I think. Catching sight of Diamond, Nick and Olivia's open mouthed, blank stares, I find my answer. _Yup, seems so._

"What's up with Rose?" Adelaide asks the others, just as confused by my bubbly glee as the rest of them.

"I dunno," Diamond sighs, "It's got all of us stumped." I take a big bite from the cake slice and grin at them from around my coffee. Scorpius enters the Great Hall, looking as grumpy as he usually does and I wave at him, feeling a burst of happiness when he waves back at me. Looking puzzled. He heads towards Kieran but, after a brief moment of consideration sits next to Olivia instead and examines me like my other friends are doing. On some unseen signal, all of them, apart from Scorpius, began firing questions at me.

"Are your parents having another child?"

"Has Vanessa obtained some serious illness and is in the infirmary?"

"Did you ace our last Charms test?"

"Why are you so happy?"

I put my hands up, warding off more questions and begin to address them one by one.

First is Olivia; "No, my mother is not pregnant. One brother is enough for me, thank you very much." Then Diamond; "I have not heard of Vanessa falling down ill so, no, she plays no part in my mood today." Next is Nick: "I haven't got my results back yet from Professor Flitwick so nope." And then finally Adelaide: "The reason I'm so happy is because it's my birthday!"

"Ah…" they all mumble in comprehension. I'm not upset by their forgetting, I don't know their birthdays yet either. Scorpius is the first to get over the declaration and pay his well-wishes.

"Happy birthday, Rose." his lips draw up into a small smile and I grin back at him, feeling a little lighter and fluttery.

"Yeah, Happy Birthday Rose." Nick, Diamond and Olivia utter. Adelaide doesn't wish me birthday wishes but I'm sure it's more to do with Bethany Greengrass sitting down next to her than any bad feelings on me personally. I don't really mind. I'm much too happy. I spoon the last morsel of cake into my mouth as the horde of owls flies through the large arched windows. They descend onto students, dropping sweets and envelopes and parcels. A Ministry-tagged screech owl delivers my cards and presents onto the space I'd cleared and I pick out the different writing in excitement. I swigged my last caffeinated droplet, then gather my satchel onto my shoulder and tell my friends I'm "heading back to the dorm." Diamond and Olivia gather their things and follow me, like I knew they would and I'm fortunate enough to run into Kat along the way, so she's dragged along.

In my room, I toss my satchel by the foot of my bed and sit cross-legged onto my duvet spread. Olivia titles herself as 'keeper of the litterings' and all three girls clamour around me to read and see what I've gotten. The first card I tear open is from my parents. It's written by mum and Diamond has no qualms about reading it aloud: "To Rose. Happy twelfth birthday, sweetheart. We wish you the very best in your academics during the rest of the year and hope you find happiness no matter who you befriend. Lots of love from mum and Dad xxx."

"That's cute." Olivia remarks. I nod, still smiling, "Yeah." I tear open the accompanying parcel and am not in the least surprised to find a copy of a book under the rose (my dad's always found it funny) wrapping paper. It's: _Alice in Wonderland_ by Lewis Carroll and I'm touched by the book choice. The next cards and presents go like this; Uncle Harry and co give me a card with a pretty garden on it and a book on _One hundred strange facts about Quidditch!,_ Uncle George and co. have a small card with a simple message and a small makeup kit (no doubt under instruction from Roxanne), Uncle Percy and his immediate family gave me a small, modest silver necklace with a small silver heart locket attached. In the centre of the locket is a tiny heart-shaped emerald gem. The message which comes attached only reads: "Follow your heart." It's an odd gift from the family but I chalk it up to Molly understanding some of the rumours and gossip that I was constantly being subjected to. Uncle Charlie got me a stuffed toy, which was, of course, in the shape of a dragon. I roll my eyes and smirk at the cartoony gift. Bill and Fleur's card is brief. The front is of one sole blue balloon and inside all it says is: "To Rose, Happy Birthday. From Bill, Fleur, Louis and Victoire. There's no present attached. I can't say I'm surprised. Fleur always has been good at holding a grudge. _Like mother, like daughter._ I think of Victoire. Naturally my mind leaps to the exception of the rule: Dominique. Kat sorts my presents into one pile while Olivia spells away the rubbish.

"I'm pretty darn proud of my stash-" I begin to say.

"You've got two cards left." Diamond interrupts, waving the final two in front of my face. I take them from her hand and choose to open the one from Grandma Weasley first. It's in a lilac envelope and it smells slightly of the package that it's attached to: homemade brownies. I smile as I read the words, hearing the exact compassionate tone as grandma and grandpa give words of support and love for my year ahead. I bust open the package of chocolate brownies and distribute them to evenly among my girl friends. The next card is bright orange and I know instinctively that it's from Hugo.

"Mmm, these are some amazing brownies." Kat comments, scarfing down the baked goods. I laugh at the sight of her chocolate smeared mouth and glittering blue eyes. She looks enviously at the box and I smile at her- "Go ahead. They're there to be eaten." Kat doesn't even hesitate when grabbing some more and I'm reminded of my dad's appetite.

Sure enough, the orange card holds my brother's well wishes and he takes mischievous glee in telling me that 'I'm getting old now' and 'soon enough you'll be getting grey hairs'. The cheek! With my cards and presents stashed away and lessons nearly starting, we rush from the dorm to get to class. I'm sprinting next to Diamond while Olivia tries to catch up and Kat flags behind, hopping from foot to foot and muttering about 'not having enough time to finish my brownie'. We resemble madwomen as we race up the stairs passing the startled faces of older year students and disapproving teachers. Kat breaks off when us Slytherins are near our potions classroom, shouting that she'll catch up with us at lunch. Diamond reaches the door just as it's swinging closed and we all pant and stumble wildly, taking over one another to try lessen whatever punishment sir may feel the need to enforce on us for our tardiness. The class whispers and gapes openly at the three of us and Professor Van Der Birg looks as though he's just sucked a lemon.

"Silence!" he commands, voice sharp and demanding. We promptly shut up. "Take your seats and get out your equipment. Now." We do as he asks. Krum snickers from his stool next to me. _Prick._ The practical goes fairly well, the potions that I'd concocted was the exact shade of azula blue the book had said it should be and Krum wasn't as annoying as he usually was. Perhaps it wasn't that he was less annoying and more that I didn't care on that particular day but either way he kept to himself for the most part.

As he moves through the student, the Professor criticizes each and every liquid under his keen eyes. He scratches his goatee in thought at Jasmine Patil's desk and reluctantly tells her that it's: "Not that bad." When he reaches Nott and one of the Finnigan brother's cauldron he nearly turns puce in anger.

"What do you call _this!?"_ he hisses. The Finnigan boy- Matthew, I think his name is- opens his mouth in defence of his lime-green potion; "I- we… It's not as bad as it looks sir."

" _Not as bad as it looks?_ Can you not read, Mr Finnigan, are you lame in the head or something?" the teacher mocks. Matthew blushes a deep red and stutters when saying his next words: "I'm s-sorry s-sir. I t-truly am."

"And I should hope so. You clearly didn't inherit your brother's academic genes." he spits. This strikes a nerve with me. _How dare he act so rude towards a student! This is not fair…_ I step forwards and approach the flushed Gryffindor boy. The class watches with nervous eyes.

"Sir, he said he's sorry. Can't you just leave him alone." I frown, looking directly into the spectacled eyes of the Potions Master. The room seems to suck in a collective breath. Van Der Birg observes me with cold eyes. He looks pensive for a moment, as if mentally stock filing information to be used at a later date.

"Miss Weasley what I say or do not say to my students should not be your concern."

"But it is," I persist. I mentally drudge up some facts my mother had told me from her workplace. "Under the Ministry's protection of Wizards and Witches Rights, file fifty two, clause three, it clearly states that 'any verbal, physical or emotional abuse from an authoritative figure to a minor is reprimandable via the law and should be stopped immediately.'" I draw in a breath and smile, proud of remembering the file that I'd helped digitalise with mum's assistant two summers ago. The Professor rubs his goatee and looks perturbed by my direct referencing skills. His eyes bore into the Finnigan boy to sneer: "You're fortunate Miss Weasley is such a _lawful Slytherin._ Without her and her quotations I'm sure you'd be in tears by now." And with that odd and quite disturbing final sentiment, the teacher stalks off back to his desk to sulk.

Fifty minutes deep into the lesson the Professor tells us to 'bottle up' what we'd created and hand it to him at his desk. We do as he asks and Krum snatches out bottled potion from my hand when I get up to take it to the front. I send him a questioning look.

"I don't want him to fail me just because he holds a grudge against you." he mutters in response. I shrug it off, seeing the logic in his words. For some reason I remember how Dominique had told me in King Cross station of Louis going to Krum's house for over the Christmas break and I recall how I'd wanted to question him about it. I turn to tell him but he's already sauntered off to hand in our potion.

The boy I'd just stuck up for, the Gryffindor Finnigan who blushed a very dark shade of red, walks over to me hesitantly and I shoot him an encouraging smile at his approach.

"Hey," he starts. Kieran spots the both of us and watches us both in a wallflower kind of way. I'm well accustomed to Kieran's introvert personality and feel a small pang of loss at me not having sought out either him nor Scorpius since school had recontinued after the Christmas break.

"Hi," I greet Matthew back. I wait for him to speak, knowing he had something to say.

"Look… Um, thanks about earlier." he mumbles.

"No problem," I shrug "You want some advice?"

"Sure."

"Whenever you're feeling like you've truly screwed up… Just remember that in 1788 the Austrian army attacked itself and lost 10,000 men in battle." Matthew looks at me blankly and I nod solemnly. From the corner of my eye I see Kieran's lopsided smile and Jasmine's confusion. Diamond joins the conversation, giving me her 'why are you so strange?' look and aloud covering for me.

"Or next time you make the potion add only half the amount of crushed hawthorne leaves you used this lesson and stir it twice anti-clockwise before allowing it to brew."

"Or that." I smile.

The bell rings and we file out for class. Olivia hooks one of my arms and Diamond joins her up with the other.

"Phew," Olivia puffs out, "I'm sure glad we weren't penalised for being late to lesson."

"Sorry for that, by the way." I apologise. "I didn't mean to make us all late."

"Pfft, as if we care about being late. It's your birthday Rose-" Diamond gives me an exaggerated slow wink and a catty smile, "-that's reason enough to be late for class." I grin, wondering to myself how I'd been lucky enough to have found as nice and loyal friends as these.

"Do you want to know a fun fact?" I ask them both as we make our way to Charms. Diamond groans and Olivia seems amused by her response. I nudge her slightly.

"The word 'panic' actually stems from the Greek word 'panikos' which came from a God named Pan who apparently shouted at people when they were alone in the woods to freak them out." There is a silence which I fill by laughing, entertained by the idea of some God-like being yelling 'boo' at passerby's just for the hell of it.

"Why are we friends again?" Diamond queries, dryly and I blow her a kiss in a melodramatic way. We enter the classroom and take or seats.

Professor Flitwick squeaked out instructions telling us that today we were going to master the summoning charm 'Accio'. I can't wait to begin…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At lunchtime, I'm walking with Olivia to the dining hall when I suddenly remember that I've left my textbook back in my Charms classroom. I weave around the net movement of students heading to the dining room and slump against a wall when a particularly rowdy group of fifth years pass me by. Professor Longbottom rounds a corner and I follow my natural urge to slink deeper into my secluded alcove as he and Professor McGonagall continue their conversation.

"-I'm sure of it, ma'am. Someone is definitely pilfering items from the greenhouses."

"And you're sure it is not the students?" Minerva responds, elegantly striding next to the boy she'd once taught and keeping a firm expression on her face.

"There would be no point," Neville Longbottom answers, "The herbs and vegetation that have been taken are only useful when casting dark spells, which no student at Hogwarts has access to. At least not without access to books in the restriction section." Their voices fade as they move farther from me and I push aside the odd yet meaningless piece of information to focus on retrieving my textbook. I reach my classroom in good time and suppress a smile at finding it exactly where I'd left it. I turn to leave and head back to the Great Hall to go eat with my friends.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Herbology lesson that day was lead by Professor Longbottom himself. He leads us straight into a wide-spaced classroom located between the Hogwarts greenhouses and tells us cheerily that today we will be working on the 'theory' sides to plants and their uses. The roof is made out of thick windows and it allows us to watch in awe as a blizzard of snow commences. The snowflakes fall in a helix shape and I learn from Kat that there are "thirty five distinct different types of snowflakes."

"That's pretty awesome." I bob my head in appreciation. Her blue eyes sparkle in pride.

"Thanks."

When class is finished the blizzard has slowed down to a slow waltzing of flakes which dust the tops of my hair and eyelashes. I stick out my tongue and try catch snow on my tongue.

"Remember kids, DON'T eat yellow snow!" Professor Longbottom calls out from the doorway to the classroom. He cradles a steaming mug of tea in his hands and wears a very thick jumper to shelter him against the cold. I shiver in my robes but don't wande back up to the school building until I fulfil my mission. At last, I catch one on my tongue and the brief surge of satisfaction makes my smile widen. Something cold and wet suddenly his me on the back of my head. I gasp at the coldness and drop my satchel to meet my foe. Logan throws another snowball at me, grinning when it hits me right where my tie is.

"Bring it on." I yell, excited. I reach for a pile of snow which is close to me and launch my snowball into Logan's shoulder.

"SNOWBALL FIGHT!" someone shouts out. "LAST ONE TO GET HIT WINS!"

And so the battle commences...

I compile a bunch of snowballs. _Wham._ I hit Higgs right in the back of the neck. He yelps and cries out as the icy lump slides down his neck and into his robes. Kat shoots me a thumbs up from where she's hidden behind a bare-stripped tree. _Wham._ I hit Charlotte Delacour who respectfully takes her defeat without throwing a hissy fit. _Wham._ I land the third snowball onto Beth Greengrass's shoulder, giving her a shrug when she shoots me an accusatory glare. In my hind vision I sense Louis cocking back his arm and aiming right for me. I dive out of the way and his snowball hits Kieran instead. I throw a hurriedly made snowball back at him and swear when it misses him and hits Olivia instead. On and on this process goes until it's just five of us left: me, Kat, Scorpius, Lorcan (not sure when he arrived but, meh, I'm too preoccupied to really care) and Diamond left. Kat aims for me and I miss her throw by an inch. Lorcan uses her throwing to hit her and Kat giggles a little as she joins Diamond and Olivia as they head back inside. Scorpius; shot is so fast and so powerful it hits Diamond full in the face. Her brother laughs raucously at her as she calls the Malfoy: "one sneaky motherfucker.

 _And then there were three._ I muse to myself. Lorcan throws one at me and I roll away from it, delighting in the adrenaline that's pumping through my veins. My fingers are numb and my curls are very wet and frosty but I don't give a damn. Scorpius tries getting me as I come up from my roll but I jump over his attempt, beaming. I chuck my own ball back and Scorpius maneuvers it cleverly so that it hits Lorcan instead of him.

I meet his silver eyes with my own. I'm determined but so is he. We circle one another assessing each other one on one. I'm quick but so is he. He's strong but I'm flexible. He loves to win but I hate to lose. We're evenly matched.

I throw first. It misses. He retaliates but I hide behind a tree while he fires out two more. Using my wand, I surreptitiously change the direction of his last snowball to aim at him. He freezes it mid-air and the ball of snow drops harmlessly to the ground. _Darn, he's good…_ I think. I make my own hurried weaponry and bombard the Malfoy. I peek out from my faithful tree and in full view I begin to close in on him. The first two shots are way off, the third closer- missing his ear by a hairbreadth. Scorpius looks smug, his calm expression revealing a cheshire cat smile as he is tricked into thinking I'm vulnerable and weaponless in front of him. It is then that I reveal the one I'd kept hidden in my left hand. Right where his heart is my snowball hits. The crowd 'ooh' and 'ahh' and I make a dramatic bow at my win. Scorpius stills, the smile on his face wavering and then changing to a full-fledged laugh.

"Should've guessed," he gasps out between chuckles "That it'd be _you_ to fool me." I shake hands with him, having it been drilled into me at an early age by Uncle Harry that no matter what side you are on (the winning or losing team), you must always show respect to one another at the end of the game. His hand is soft and damp with snow.

"Almost," I reassure.

"Almost." he repeats.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Back in the Slytherin common room I get applauded by my fellow spectators. I do a curtsey and immediately drop off my satchel and grab one of the many thick blankets being passed around. It's a warm self-heating fluffy blanket and I sink into a velvet couch with a dreamy sigh. Olivia, her light brown hair frizzing out of her ponytail, bounces up to me and smushes herself next to me on the armchair. She curls up against me, her body shivering with cold and her ice-blue eyes alight with adventure. She hugs me close and her body heat lends to mine.

"That was fun," she sighs sleepily.

"Mmm…" I agree, yawning. Diamond spots us both from where she's talking with Esmeralda, our designated prefect, and she passes both of us two large cups of hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows.

"Wow, thanks." I murmur, licking the frothy top and sitting up slightly to drink the hot beverage without spilling. Diamond shrugs, finger-combing her straight hair.

"Least you two can't complain that I do nothing for you." Me and Olivia exchange guilty looks.

"In all fairness," I point out "You do use our notes and copy up our homework a lot."

"Uh-huh," Olivia nods. I slurp down some of the delicious drink.

"Ah, whatever." Diamond concedes, going off the find herself a hot drink for herself. I think back on my day from start to finish. I know that it's not dinnertime yet but I'm thankful for how good my birthday has been. I place down my emptied mug (and Olivia's as well) onto a glass coffee table. Her head droops onto my shoulder and her soft exhalation s tell me she's fallen asleep. I snuggle deeper in my armchair haven and let myself drift off as well...


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry for the slow update, I scrapped the original version of this chapter as it was way too rushed and to make it up to you I made this one extra long (hmm: should I have split this into two chapters instead? Probably.). Anyways, work experience is over now (nooo! It was so fun!) and I've got one hundred and one pieces of homework in for tomorrow (not really but it feels like it :(). This is part one of this scene (you'll get what I mean at the end). Hints? (I'll go with a Macbeth quote to sum up this chapter) Fair is foul. Enjoy! :)**

There are some days where I genuinely love being surrounded by friends. I like their chatter and drink in their presence with luxury. I'll listen to their woes and either give them some support and comfort or, more likely, the 'tough love' speech. On those days I like being social, I like the gossip, rants, whispers, confessions, laughter and snark. Unfortunately, today was not one of those days. I'd woken up way too early for a Sunday morning by a nightmare which I'd forgotten upon waking. Looking around at my three roommates I catalogue them: Olivia in a foetus position, curling into the tightest and smallest ball possible, Beth with her blonde hair settled around her like a halo and lying on her back as though dead and, finally, Diamond, spreading out her long legs and gangly limbs like a starfish across her duvet heaven. I snuggle my way deeper into my own blanketed den but after a few minutes of tossing and turning restlessly I decide that it's no use trying to go back to sleep when my mind wasn't co-operating.

Which is how I ended up stumbling through the dorm corridors back to the otherworldly green glow of the Slytherin common room. It was dark (mind you, we _did_ live in the dungeons, meaning there were obviously no windows) and I guessed that it wasn't dawn yet by the morning light charm not having been cast. At the archway leading to the common room, I shiver. A small breeze ripples across my back and my gut clenches- as if in warning. The unnerving feeling makes me scour the room, paranoid that someone or something was watching me.

The dark makes the place seem spookier. The chandelier is shapeless, a glinting mound with no elegance or class. All the furniture looks melanic and cold and the black and white tile floor feels like a battleground to me. The fire crackles softly, hissing and spitting luminescent green tongues and I remember, a little slowly, that I am placed in the House of the snake. A glass coffee table looks transparent whereas antique ornamental lamps look grand and equally as menacing. I can't initially see anyone and I'm fully prepared to shrug it off as tiredness when the voice hovers from a shadowed armchair, on the peripheral of the fireplace.

"Hello, Rose. Would you like to join me?" The voice is soft, sugary sweet and eerily familiar, though I struggle to place it. I hesitate, unsure whether or not to trust the mysterious shadowed person. She laughs, a husky, seductive kind of sound and I remember her crimson lips and raven black hair. Our first encounter. _Marissa_.

"Don't worry, I don't bite… Usually." she laughs again, seemingly amused by my obvious distrust. I straighten my back and my tone.

"I'm not scared." I respond, coolly. To reinforce my words I stride over to the fireplace, being careful not to get too close to the magnificent yet dangerous fire. I take a seat in a velveted divan, sitting cross-legged and straight.

"Of course you're not," she agrees, "You're not as weak-willed as the Hufflepuffs, after all." The backhanded compliment is strange. I'm torn between feeling ticked off and (though I would never tell anyone of it) proud. She leans forwards, letting herself be seen and I nearly jump in surprise. Her curled black hair is tied back into a loose ponytail, her face is without makeup and her outfit is a simple white nightdress. It's silky and sexy, no doubt made by the finest of brands, but still… Seeing her like this makes her seem much more human. Much more innocent and young than she outwardly portrays. A wry smile flickers across her face.

"How come you're awake and-and here of all places?" I ask, curiously. "Don't the Head Girl and Boy share their own separate rooms and common room?" Marissa's silver eyes keep ahold of my own.

"That's true. I do have my own rooms."

"Yet you choose to stay here..?" Marissa hangs her head, if she were anyone else I would've said it was a sign or weariness or upset, but with her it acted as a sign of regret. She doesn't respond to my prompting. Her pewter eyes turn distant and unseeing. I let her think. I let her see whatever she's pondering about, feeling like engaging in a fluid conversation with the Head Girl may not be a wise idea.

Instead I occupy my thoughts with a memory, seeking comfort in the past as though it were spurring me on for tomorrow. Or whenever daylight would shine across our dungeoned beds. I think on the feeling of satisfaction that I'd had when I'd completed a pretty stupid dare Diamond had come up with. " _Bet'cha you can't fire a stink bomb at Filch and not be caught for it!"_ she'd challenged. " _How much do you wanna bet?"_ I'd mischievously grinned back. The dare had been fun in a childish way. The feeling of adrenaline and my heart _thump thump thump_ ing as I'd sprinted from the scene after releasing the Weasley produce was… Pretty damn exhilarating to say the least. Olivia had ducked out of it, seeming on edge about something. When we'd interrogated her about it (her edginess),she'd unwillingly crackled with nervous energy, sparking her frizzy hair and creating a subconscious ward between us and her. Me and Diamond had shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps she was feeling homesick for her papa and mama and nonno again. In the evening I'd read another fact from my _One hundred strange facts about Quidditch!_ Book; _Fact #52: Quidditch first originated from the German game 'Stichstock' which had twenty-foot-high poles with inflated dragon bladders on top._

I was pulled out of my own thoughts by Marissa, clicking her fingers in front of my face.

"Oh good," she muses, "You aren't in a trance." I roll my eyes. The older girl sits up from her crouching and swiftly sits behind a coffee table she must've moved in front. On the shiny table lays a chess board with their magical pieces already set in their correct positions. She waves a hand towards the board.

"I can already sense that you're not in a talkative mood," she begins by saying. I raise an eyebrow in skepticism. _How would she have known that?_ This time round it's her turn to roll her silvery eyes. "My brother, Kieran, is an introvert. I pick up on things like this because of him." This is the first time I've heard either of the two mention the other to me and I'm actually a little taken back by the fondness in her tone. _Don't be stupid._ A small voice in my head scorns. _They're siblings- of course they'd care about one another!_ I speculate briefly whether I'd somehow dehumanised Marissa during the year; whether her absences and seductress prowess, alongside the knowledge that she had been the one to teach and raise Vanessa and Victoire into high social ranks, had made me class her as entirely different species. Perhaps a vampiric Goddess with fangs to match. I smirk at the thought, then lose it when I remember her earlier teasing; " _Don't worry, I don't bite… Usually."_

She continues her speech, uncaring whether I was listening or not (I was, but just barely). "Because of this, I shall talk. You can listen to me, little Miss misfit." she finishes with a sly grin.

"Don't call me that." I hiss through clenched teeth. Her eyes flash. Her hand is a blur as she slaps me. I never saw it coming but I feel the after effects by my right cheek stinging and my head looking in a different direction. The slap was sudden and the calm expression on Marissa's beautiful features remind me that it is never safe. Not truly. Especially not when sat across from the elusive Slytherin Head Girl. Tears sting my eyes but I _will not cry._ I refuse to let on to her how fearful and small I really feel. So I do what I do best when I'm feeling vulnerable and confused. I act pissy and cold, drawing up a barrier to stop her from getting through to me.

"I shall call you whatever I please," the raven-haired snake hisses. She moves her pawn two spaces forwards, murmuring the command to the magical little plaything. Detachedly, I find it ironic that she's chosen the white pieces to represent herself and the black pieces for me.

"I am not your pawn, Marissa. I shall not be played." I whisper, hardening my voice so that it won't shake. Steeling my eyes, so they don't cry. Marissa's silver eyes don't seem perturbed in the slightest.

"We are all chess pieces," she replies with, absorbed with watching my pawn move to block hers. I don't like this. Not the chess game; the girl I'm talking with. She reminds me of Lysander when he wanted to get close to my aura, his knuckles grazing my cheek and making me shiver in apprehension. Marissa has secrets, no doubt dark ones, and I'm fucking terrified of imagining what those secrets may be. Her other pawn moves out two spaces, slicing down mine in a small clashing of sword on pottery. My pawn shatters but I'd anticipated the loss, knowing that my bishop could now attack my enemy while gaining a better position. All the same, I regret losing my brave pawn. A thought, an unsettling notion, niggles at me.

"You say that we are chess pieces," I repeat slowly, observing Marissa's tactical movement of her knight. "But if we are pieces, then who is behind the game?" Her eyes lock with mine. They are serious, warning me against something she will not reveal to me.

"Ah… Now you are asking the questions which count." she muses. I move one of my pawns forwards, listening to the words which she thinks deeply on before letting out. "That is a question you must find out for yourself. You are too naive at the moment, little misfit; much too full of certainty for your own good. I'm unsurprised at this, having been brought up into a family as stifling and _good-willed_ as yours, you were bound to be sheltered by love." I let her words sink in. Some of the sentiments; of me being 'naive' echo what Scorpius had said about my 'little bubble eventually popping' or whatever.

"You make that sound like a bad thing." I frown down at my slaughtered pawn. Her eyes burn into mine. "It is both a luxury and a burden." she informs me, brushing her fingertips over her fallen warrior.

"The important things are," I reply, remembering how it feels to be in the company of Dominique. How her happiness makes me joyful and her depression becomes my own despair. Her smile being as radiant as the sun but much too fleeting for the happiness to last.

"Be careful with the ones you deem as important." she cautions, trapping my newly released knight into a corner with her pawns and bishop. "The most poisonous of people you will ever encounter will be the ones closest to you." I scoff a little at this. _Yeah, right!_ But I get ahold of myself at her narrowed eyed look. I remember the abrupt slap and collect myself, making a mental memo _not_ to get on Marissa's bad side. _Again_. I sacrifice my knight to her greedy clutches in order to take her castle with one of my bishops. Neither of us are using our queens. I think we both realise how powerful and meaningful they are to the game.

I divert the attention by bringing up a topic that I hadn't meant to ask. I would've traded what I said for philosophical rambling instead, but somewhere along the process of putting my thoughts to words, I ended up questioning her on something I'd been silently stewing over the last couple of days: "Why did you train Victoire and Vanessa to become queen bees?" The question makes us both look shocked. I can tell she wasn't expecting that and neither did I. She takes one of my bishops as she scrutinises me. In retaliation, I execute one of her knights. I do a self-conscious shrug, adding how I'd "heard you took them both under your wing." Marissa's next move is interesting. Her queen moves to take one of my pawns. I use her good-but not quite thought through- decision to eliminate her final castle.

"I was bored," she utters, not meeting my eyes. I keep my gaze on hers, not believing that she was telling me the truth. Sure enough, the silence works against her and she elaborates on her point. "I was in my fifth year and I decided that I needed a new prodigy. Vanessa was high up on the traditional familial list and when her and your cousin became such enthusiastic and ambitious friends, I decided that two would balance itself out among the school." I stifle a snort at how well _that_ worked out. Her queen takes one of my most progressed pawns in on viciously graceful swoop. "I learnt through my training with both girls that they are essentially two sides of the same coin. I have no doubt that they will re-unite at the most inconvenient of times and royally screw the school over." Her eyes are glinting with wickedness. I pluck off another one of her pawns.

"That would be hell," I scowl, thinking of what life would be like being ruled under Vanessa and Victoire's thumbs permanently. Marissa looks stern, reminding me of how McGonagall looks when Krum messes up in transfiguration and turns a book into a reptilian plate.

"Do not toss around such terms so loosely, Rose. When you see hell itself you will look back on your life now and _wish_ that you were still that age. Still as innocent and naive as you currently are. Understand that no matter how bad of a situation you are in, it can always get worse." Her queen takes my castle this time and I see the perfect opportunity.

"That's not depressing at all," I quip, using one of my secretive pawns to reach the end of the playing field, reviving my bishop from the dead. The little chips resurrect into its normal state and I am awed by the magic it must've taken for the items to be produced this way. It reminds me of an old muggle film: Jumanji, and how the board seemed to have a life of its own, much like the one before me. Marissa props her chin on one hand, glumly and introspectively.

"I'm blunt," Marissa says, "Sometimes," she adds on, sensing my incredulity. I think of a word to sum her up and open my mouth to say it. I close it with a soft snap when I realise the consequences. My mind questions the benefits against the negatives. "Tell me. I won't be offended." she voices aloud, "Nor will I hit you." She promises. My bishop strikes down one of her bishops.

"You're a bitch." I state, my voice only wavering a little bit at the end. Her pawn moves one step forwards. I examine her newest move and try figure out her game plan.

"So?" she replied, cocking one eyebrow in a perfect aristocratic arch. Her cat- the jet black one- leaps onto her lap and starts purring loudly. I gape at the girl, astonished she's reacted so calmly to this. Whispering to my counter, I move one of my own pawns forwards. I'm trying to create a wall. Her higher-ranking pieces cut down my wall of soldiers one by one. Until I eventually, in one gracefully simplistic move, eradicate her queen. Marissa's expression is shocked. She never expected me to win her queen. However my cut-down wall of pawns still leaves my king open and vulnerable. She takes advantage of this and her voice is like a bell ring as she murmurs "Check". I scan my board, checking for alternative routes to get out of 'Check'. There are two options: for my king to move forwards one and become even closer to her bishop and knight or for my king to shift aside and get closer to her pawns. Both options have their downfalls.

"Why are you here Marissa? Why are you talking and playing chess with _me?"_ I go with the move closer to her pawns and I see that the logical move protects my queen from her knight. She considers my question for a while. Her raven curls fall to frame her face when she speaks: "The walls talk, little misfit, and I hear many whispers about you and your kin. I've spoken with a boy who very grudgingly repeated to me your prophecy." I remember the words Lorcan and Lysander had said; of me becoming the greatest saviour and damnation, of being betrayed by the one I'm closest to, of raising the dead… _Merlin, help me._ I move my own queen to place her king in check. She moves it diagonally, brow furrowed in concentration. "I wanted to play chess with you because I feel it is a great way to learn a person's strengths and weaknesses." I look up at this, neglecting the game for a moment.

"And what have you learnt?" I question, feeling a finger of apprehension trail its path up my spine.I use my queen to knock down another of her pieces. Marissa smirks cruelly, eyes looking overly earnest in the greenish light of the fire. Her hand is quick and purposeful as she takes down my queen with her final pawn. I'm intrigued with what her answer will be though I'm still heavily invested in the game. I push out my bishop, trapping her king yet again. She ponders this new development.

"Do you trust me?" she asks me, at last. I don't hesitate when responding.

"No." Her silver eyes look up beneath her long eyelashes.

"Smart girl." she decrees, "You shouldn't." She knows that I've noticed that she's not answered my question. I peer at the board, meticulously scanning for any possible escape routes that she could take that I may have overlooked. There's none.

"Checkmate." I proclaim, voice loud in the dimmed lounge.

"What are you doing here?" a new voice questions, his eyes centered on his sisters'. I jump at the abrupt interruption, wondering how I'd not heard him come in. Especially when the Common Room was so quiet. I regard the siblings in curiosity.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to." she replies, matching Kieran's stare with her own. Kieran approaches my divan and holds out a hand in a formal request. I look up at him, bemused with this bizarre twisting of events. He glances away from his sister to meet my eyes and an impish smile unfurls at his lips.

"Good morning, Rose. Would you allow me to escort you… Well, anywhere besides where my devious sister is sitting?" I stand up, taking his hand. I cast a wary glance at his said 'devious' sister and say: "Thank you for the game." She nods her head in acknowledgement as I'm taken away. I follow Kieran as he leads me into the opposite doorway, through an entirely different passageway which is reminiscent of my own and then finally into a small dorm room with only three beds present. I raise an eyebrow as he closes the dark wooden door.

"Sorry. I couldn't think of where else to bring you which wouldn't get us both into trouble." he runs a hand through his curly black hair and his grey eyes shy away from mine. I survey the room, not too bothered at having been brought here. It's about the same size as mine with the three beds spread out on a different side each. Against the wall opposite the door is Nick, his breath rising and falling gently as he sleeps. Across the dark green carpeted floor, on the right hand side (from my standing view) lays an exhausted looking Scorpius. His blonde hair is all mussed up and falling across his face and his fists clench and unclench his sheets as he rests. The bookcase, nearest Kieran's bed, beckons to me and I'm compelled to see which books it holds. There are four shelves worth of books. The first is of our school textbooks, their covers shiny and new (from being bought from Flourish and Blotts). The second shelf holds a bunch of Quidditch books: _Quidditch Through The Ages, The best hints and tricks when flying your broom, Quidditch Legends and their stories, How to become a Quidditch Star_ and so on… Kieran follows me, his footsteps barely audible on the fluffy floor. He smiles at the Quidditch shelf, commenting: "We all really like the game, Scorpius is the most obsessed of us all but Nick comes a very close second."

"Have they read all of these?" I point at the tomes, impressed by their dedication to the sport. Kieran shrugs, "Pretty much, yeah." I hunch down onto my knees to review the shelves lower down. This one is of magical writers, biographies, Dark Arts spells and counter curses (I try not to judge them too heavily on these), Potions books and a few adventure novels about fictional wizards and witches. The fourth shelf surprises me. It turns out to be a treasure trove of muggle novels: The Lord of The Rings series is there, along with: The Chronicles of Narnia, The Percy Jackson series, A Hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy, The 5th Wave trilogy and a bunch of classics (: Of mice and men, 1984, To Kill a mockingbird, Huckleberry Finn, Moby Dick, Dracula and A Tale of Two Cities). I point, wordlessly at them. Kieran sighs, a wry smile tugging on him, holding a polite hand to gather me back up before confessing: "I like reading them. Marissa doesn't know and I'd be grateful if you kept it from her."

"Of course." I amble over to his bed, practically falling onto the soft white covers and yawning widely. I shuffle to his headboard, resting my head on the green throw covers and sighing in contentment. Kieran stands at his shelf, thinking over something. I use his distraction to my advantage, assessing Marissa's younger brother in detail.

He's barefoot and freshly awakened, as seen from his sleep-crusted tear ducts and his messy curly hair. He wears grey sweatpants and a Holyhead Harpies Quidditch shirt. He holds himself with grace, despite his bedtime attire, and his movements let on to his background. I know that him and his sister come from the Black family tree, though I'm unsure as to who their parents are and where they spend their time during the holidays. Where Marissa flaunts her rich upbringing and converts her elegance into intimidation and sex appeal, Kieran is much more modest about it. He's smart- he puts his hand up a lot in class, though the teachers never choose on him- and I know that he spends most of his time with Scorpius. Before Christmas, when I sat with them in my spare moments, he would play chess or card games with the Malfoy heir or read books and write essays. He was an introvert, as his sister had said, but he did speak now and again- usually wholly in inside jokes or the odd question about a certain area of study.

Kieran smiles at me and I blush furiously at the realisation that he's noticed me staring at him. I avert my gaze, feeling a heady rush of embarrassment at being caught. He walks towards me, holding out a book in his hands. I look down at the cover: _Animal Farm By George Orwell._ He sits down beside me, opening his own book ( _The Hobbit By J.R.R Tolkien)_ without a pause. I haven't read Animal Farm before, though my mother had once told me it was a good book representing what went on during the Russian Revolution in muggle history. I take the hint that he wants me to read it and crack open the newest piece of literature. I become lost in the words on the paper, sucked into the world on the farm, of the farmer's disregard for the animals that lived there, of the Old Major's dreaming of equality among themselves, of his unfortunate death and how his meeting had inspired all of the animals to overthrow Mr Jones and cast him from their homeland. I chortle when the animals carry out their rebellion, gasp as Napoleon and the pigs take advantage of their new roles as leaders on the farm, cry when Snowball (the fairest of the pigs) gets chased away and Boxer- the hard-working horse- gets sent off to the Glue factory. The words blur and merge together as my eyes begin to droop. _I'll just close my eyes for a second…_ I think to myself, _just to regain my strength…_

X

A finger prods me on my side. Someone whispers: "D'you think she's dead?" The warm voice is shut down by some sort of movement as his "Ow!" yelps into my ear. I scrunch up my face, and snuggle into a hot pillow. My hands ball up some kind of fabric, _some kind of tee-shirt perhaps?_ And I hear a soft rumbling beneath my head. _Wait, what? Rumbling? T-shirt?_ I snap open my eyes, am promptly blinded by the harsh daylight charm and screw my eyes tightly together again.

"See! I told you she wasn't dead." a familiar French voice gloats. _Oh dear, did I really just-_ I open my eyes, slowly this time, bracing myself. Two pairs of curious eyes peer right back at me- _yes, yes I did._ I keep my eyes wide open and scramble off of Kieran's chest- a familiar sort of embarrassment and awkwardness rushing over me- and sit in an awkward heap of limbs in shock and horror. My fuzzy mind struggles to dredge up the memories from last night/early morning and it comes back to me in fragmented pieces. _The green fire… Marissa's slap… Her warnings… Chess...Kieran… Animal Farm._

"Shit." I swear, raking my eyes frantically across the three boys staring at me. Nick chuckles, coming to terms with me in sleeping- _Salazar save me-_ on Kieran, much easier than Scorpius.

"Good morning to you too." Nick greets, pleasantly. I shoot a glance at Kieran, frowning into his light grey eyes.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" He shrugs nonchalantly, dismissing the notion.

"You were tired. I didn't want to wake you." I feel like it's best to be extremely awkward now to clear the air for later. I'd learnt the technique from my dad, who had a quaint knack for being as weird as possible straight away, in order to leave no pretenses for later.

"Um, well, sorry about sleeping on you and all," I blurt out, blushing, "In all fairness though, you are very hot." Kieran grins cheekily at my unusual choice of words, Scorpius snorts in derision and Nick putters out a bizarre cough-laugh in surprise. It hits me then what I've done wrong and I rush to cover up the mistake: "I mean, temperature-wise. You're very hot, like as if you were a kettle, y'know? Not that you're not, uh, um attractive or anything- or, agh!" I raise my hands in a gesture of exasperation, hitting Nick on the shoulder and wincing as he lets out a grunt. "Eek! Sorry Nick, I didn't mean to hit you. You okay?" Kieran's grin turns into a cheshire-cat smile and Scorpius tries (and utterly fails) to compose himself. Scorpius lets out a bark of laughter, repeating 'as if you were a kettle' over and over. I feel my face burning, what I imagine to be a beetroot sort of colour.

I cross my arms defiantly, scowling at the three of them as they struggle to collect themselves.

"It's not funny." I huff, stirring on another round of taunting and laughter. As they reign in their amusement, I take a look at one of their planetary clocks. I'd read a book (for some light reading) over the holidays on how to decode the devices and I startle when I finally figure out that it's eight thirty.

"We have to go get breakfast!" I exclaim, "The hall closes at nine."

"Not on weekends," Nick corrects, "It's Sunday so it's open until ten instead." Scorpius loses his smirk, pulling a moody face at the clock.

"I don't want to go down to breakfast today." he states for the group.

Kieran lightly punches his arm, smirking: "You're just scared that you won't get anything." Scorpius scowls at him.

"No, I'm not," he insists, "I'd much rather get nothing than be faced with sappy cards and poisoned chocolates."

"N'importe quoi." Kieran comments back. I remember picking up the phrase from the sheer amount of times Dominique uses it: _Whatever._ I pique in curiosity:

"What's today? Why would you not want to go down to breakfast?" Scorpius smirked a little, gesturing for the other two not to tell me.

"Rose what's the number for pi to seven decimal places?" he queries. Nick and Kieran look at him in a half-exasperated, half-fond way. I wonder what this has to do with the date.

"3.1415926 without any rounding being done to it. Why?" I recite back to him.

"How exactly is it that you know mathematics like that, yet do not know today's date?" he mocks, condescension and Malfoy arrogance interlaced in his tone. I roll my eyes.

"It's Sunday, sometime in February. Unless an exam is coming up, the date doesn't really mean that much to me." I admit. His smirk ticks me off but I am in _his_ chambers, so I find something else to do instead of cuffing him over the back of the head.

"Can I take a shower?" I ask Nick, purposefully ignoring the two boys I feel the most awkward around, "It's just that I don't really want to be interrogated by Diamond and miss breakfast." Nick shrugs, "Sure. There's spare towels in the cupboard in the bathroom and I'll lend you a shirt and some jeans if you want." I look down at my wrinkled pyjamas.

"Thanks," I smile back at him. He turns to root through his stuff and I answer Scorpius' questions best I can (without losing my temper).

"Why were you here?"

"Ran into Marissa sometime last night and Kieran brought me here after I finished my game of chess."

"She played chess with you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why are you asking me all these questions?"

"You can't answer a question with a question."

"I just did."

Nick returns with some jeans that he says are too small for him and a Bulgarian quidditch team shirt. I take the black jeans but scowl at the shirt in seriousness.

"I can't wear that." I protest. Nick paints the most innocent expression he can but it's fooling nobody. Scorpius and Kieran watch the exchange in amusement.

"Whyever not, Rose?" he acts mock-offended. I hold up the shirt, where a big ghastly picture displays Viktor Krum and his buddies zooming around on their broomsticks. I'm offended by the sight of those bushy eyebrows and cocky smirk.

"Because," I manage from behind gritted teeth, "Of _this."_ I wave senior Krum in front of Nick's face, smug when he recoils when the picture touches his face. Scorpius leans in closer, chuckling at my anger towards the Krum. "This shirt is the equivalent of walking into the Great Hall with 'I love Krum' written on my forehead." I scrunch the cloth into a ball and fire it at his head. Nick jumps as it hits his head and falls to the floor.

"Okay, okay." he chokes out, "Perhaps not the Krum one then." Kieran, who'd been roaming around near his own wardrobe while I'd been yelling at Nick, returns with a navy blue tee-shirt. This one only has a small white scripted brand logo on its chest pocket and no other inscriptions. He passes it to me, "Thank you." I acknowledge. I turn and head to the bathroom, and waste no time in locking the door, stripping and turning on the hot shower.

The hot water eases over my tightened neck muscles and limbs and I relax into it for five minutes before drying off, raking a comb through my wild curls (and giving up when it gets too tricky) and getting dressed into the fresh clothes. I wait in the dorm until the guys have all gotten ready in varying amounts of reluctance. We head out of the door, I feel nervous at first but begin to relax when there is no one in the passageway to see me. Through the common room and up the dungeon stairs we travel until eventually we're outside the Great Hall, pausing in hesitation. Scorpius wears a frown, brooding like one of my book' vampire does; Kieran is nervous, perhaps at potential social interaction or at what he'll say to his sister if she's there, and Nick… Well Nick just looks as he normally does. Which is to say: friendly, open and curious. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that it is breakfast time and that those delicious scents from behind the door are making my mouth salivate. Nick doesn't look like he needs any urging to go into the dining hall so he's the first to enter, not bothering with wishing his roommates goodbye. I glance between Scorpius and Kieran and their joint stubbornness. Choosing the one who's least likely to bite my head off, I thread my fingers with the black-haired boy and tug lightly on his palm. He squeezes back, smiling at the gesture of goodwill and allowing me to lead him (and by extension Scorpius) into the room.

I realise that I've made a mistake (actually _several mistakes)_ when many things become excruciatingly clear to me. In broad sight of over one thousand pupils Scorpius' hesitancy becomes understandable.

The tablecloths (still in their same colours: blue, green, red and yellow) are different in design. Looped hearts and kisses are threaded into the cloth which spills pastries in heart shapes and goblets full of bright red cranberry juice. The tables themselves are littered in baby pink and crimson hues due to: opened envelopes, tissue paper, chocolate boxes and teddy bears. Little harmless firework displays show cutesy messages like 'I love you' or 'You're beautiful' across couple's heads and the ghosts are chatting to one another about the hubbub and festivities going on. I scan the hall, noticing that the teachers are all chatting to one another about the decorations and only Professor Van Der Birg looks put out against the lovey-dovey decor. At Slytherin table, Vanessa is squealing and cackling as each new boy gets sucked into her black widow web and her and her bitchy squad are divided into certain tasks. I frown when I notice that Adelaide and Bethany have been placed onto 'chocolate duty' which, put simply, involves them tasting the chocolates for love potions and when they encounter a box that is tainted, Sophie sets them aside to be discarded as the two girls start loudly proclaiming their love for boys they don't even know. The three goons (Goyle, Crabbe and Higgs) are writing undoubtedly dirty messages on some roses and I pity the girl who receives one.

"Ah, fuck." I mutter, low enough for only Kieran and Scorpius to hear. "It's Valentine's Day." I pause in my walking, suddenly aware of the three mistakes that are bound to make today an unpleasant one. Mistake number one: not realising what today's date was (at least then I could've been more prepared for the sight and sounds of gullible kids investing in some unnecessary festivity and all. Mistake number two? Not returning to my dorm after my talk with Marissa. I can see the heavy judgement and accusation written across Diamond's face as she spots me stood still halfway across the walk from the doors to my usual place at the table. She turns to whisper to Olivia who in turn grins at me and with all her bubbly excitement shouts out; "Oh _there you are!_ When me and Diamond didn't see you in your bed this morning we'd wondered where you'd slept last night." The Slytherin table, having heard her due to her not having toned down on volume, quietens down and turns to watch my progression. Kieran squeezes my palm lightly as my mouth goes dry. Olivia winces when she realises what she's just done. I'm well used to the rumours and gossip, but I knew it'd take a helluva lot to convince my House that I wasn't a twelve-year-old slut now that one of my closest friends had exclaimed such information aloud. _Fuck me!_ I think crossly, meeting the sly eyes of Vanessa herself. Kieran helps me out by leading me to the one place I'd rather not be at the moment. I want to curl up and hide, bury myself back into Animal Farm or something. I'd rather be anywhere but here.

Nearing the table, I realise that mistake number three is holding hands with a boy and wearing clothes that are quite obviously not mine. I wonder whether there will be an article printed about Hogwart's 'little misfit'. I mentally groan at the thought. I recall how I'd charmed Vanessa's hair a martian green. I keep my eyes warily on hers. I feel unnerved when I see her mouth 'Game on' to me.

 _Ah, hell. What's going to happen now..?_


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hey y'all! Wow, school sure can be a bit of a bitch (or is it just the amount of coursework I'm getting :/). Anyways, I hope you all are as happy and lucky as Harry was when he sipped Felix Felicis and that you don't blame me *too* much for the topsy turviness of this chapter (and my missed update from Wednesday!). I'm gonna do hints because last chapter was part one of this one and next chapter is going to contain some key stuff for the ending of year one! The italics at the start is just what happened at the end of last chapter. Three hints to sum up this chapter: worry, obsession, crushes**

 _"Ah, fuck." I mutter, low enough for only Kieran and Scorpius to hear. "It's Valentine's Day." I pause in my walking, suddenly aware of the three mistakes that are bound to make today an unpleasant one. Mistake number one: not realising what today's date was (at least then I could've been more prepared for the sight and sounds of gullible kids investing in some unnecessary festivity and all. Mistake number two? Not returning to my dorm after my talk with Marissa. I can see the heavy judgement and accusation written across Diamond's face as she spots me stood still halfway across the walk from the doors to my usual place at the table. She turns to whisper to Olivia who in turn grins at me and with all her bubbly excitement shouts out; "Oh there you are! When me and Diamond didn't see you in your bed this morning we'd wondered where you'd slept last night." The Slytherin table, having heard her due to her not having toned down on volume, quietens down and turns to watch my progression. Kieran squeezes my palm lightly as my mouth goes dry. Olivia winces when she realises what she's just done. I'm well used to the rumours and gossip, but I knew it'd take a helluva lot to convince my House that I wasn't a twelve-year-old slut now that one of my closest friends had exclaimed such information aloud. Fuck me! I think crossly, meeting the sly eyes of Vanessa herself. Kieran helps me out by leading me to the one place I'd rather not be at the moment. I want to curl up and hide, bury myself back into Animal Farm or something. I'd rather be anywhere but here._

 _Nearing the table, I realise that mistake number three is holding hands with a boy and wearing clothes that are quite obviously not mine. I wonder whether there will be an article printed about Hogwart's 'little misfit'. I mentally groan at the thought. I recall how I'd charmed Vanessa's hair a martian green. I keep my eyes warily on hers. I feel unnerved when I see her mouth 'Game on' to me._

 _Ah, hell. What's going to happen now..?_

I move my eyes from Vanessa's to look around the Slytherin table, watching the faces begin to merge, blurring their forms into one sneering face. The shocked eyes, the rumours, the whispers. My anxiety bites into me, digging its ragged claws deeper into my skin. All the blood from my face drains away and I wonder whether the colour really is dripping from my vision or if it's just imaginary. A callous hissing in my mind is telling me, spitting at me, truly awful things; _They think you're a slut. They hate you. Just look at Vanessa, at her cruel smirk, she_ _ **knows**_ _that you're doomed- why not accept it now? Why do you stay stood there clutching Kieran's hand, pretending that it's all okay. It's clearly_ _ **NOT**_ _okay._ This, added to the shameless staring, makes me feel an uncommon sort of self-consciousness. For some reason, today I cannot get past being the centre of attention. I teeter, detachedly making me notice that I'm now half-leaning on Kieran, and try adjust my balance.

 _Just breathe…_ A voice encourages. _Deep breaths, Rose. Take deep breaths._ I'm too unstable to wonder whether I'm being told this by someone or just hearing it in my head but, with what feels like a sahara-dry throat, I suck in a large gulp of air. The fuzziness of my head clears a little bit. I repeat this. One more breath, and another, being gently lead to the table by Kieran. He lets me slide into the bench- sandwiching me between him and Nick. Kieran lets go of my hand and lets Nick take my left hand instead. His warm, familiar fingers lace through mine and I calm down steadily. Once again I'm saved from going over the edge. I'm glad; _I fucking_ _ **hate**_ _panic attacks._

Silently, someone passes me a goblet of juice. Olivia comes into focus and I see the pity shining in her ice blue eyes. She fidgets across from me- looking like she's the one under the spotlight- not me. Diamond, weirdly enough, keeps glancing at everyone and everything but me. I wonder if they both think I'm a freak. _Am I a freak?_ I think back on how many times I've lived with these fits- usually I don't really think too much on them, they've always just been there, y'know? Albus used to be the one who would calm me down- alongside my mother with her open arms and dad with his quirky stories and mish-mashed snacks. They'd understand that too many people stressed me out, that shopping in prime rush hours was my own version of hell, and that occasionally I needed to be left alone. They accepted this as part of who I was- _who I am_ \- and after I'd come to, there would be no more mention of what had just happened. This was why I hated paparazzi and was only able to go through scrutiny if my mind was resolutely fixed on not giving a damn. Being sat here, sipping my pumpkin juice, taking steadying breaths and looking over at my two new roommates, I'm scared of what they think. I'm scared that they'll suddenly treat me differently now they know that I sometimes have these… Episodes. Nick squeezes my hand, smiling his cute lopsided smile, and my spirits rise a little. He understands. I know he does. But do they..?

I nibble at my toast and clear my throat, not liking this stretched out quietness that has settled over us. I know that I'm being watched by the rest of the Slytherins, so I know that the worst possible thing I can do is talk about why I slept in the boys dorm and didn't return to my girlfriend's' dorm afterwards. I clear my throat, swallowing down the lump there.

"Did anyone receive anything for Valentine's Day?" I end up blurting. Olivia blinks slowly, registering my words and letting her olive skin brighten with a slight blush. My mouth upturns in a small smile, especially when Diamond jabs one jagged nail in disgust down next to her plate. There is an opened emerald envelope and she does not look very happy about it. Logan, her brother, abruptly swings into a seat next to Diamond and pulls out the letter.

"What's this about a letter?" the cheerful Ravenclaw teases.

"Hey!" she protests, nudging her older brother with a frown. Logan laughs, his voice amused and carefree...until the smile turns into a grimace as he reads the card. By the end of it, his eyes are burning with fierce protectiveness and anger. It's shocking- considering how chilled Logan usually is.

"I'm going to kill him," he growls, starting to stand up. Diamond yanks him down, pulling her pin straight hair behind one ear, pleading with her expression for him to calm down. The letter flutters from Logan's grip onto the table and I reach for it. Nick reads over my shoulder and I'm completely at a loss of what to say once it's been read. It's an absolutely _foul_ Valentine's card with a simple red heart on the front and _very dirty_ messages inside. It's signed off as Baxter Higgs (as in the same Higgs weakling who tried to make a move on Kat at her Christmas ball, and who often follows around those douchebags: Crabbe and Goyle).

"What does he mean by ' _I get a woodie every time I see you'?"_ I question. Nick lets out a most startled sputter, coughing up some of his drink, and when I glance at him curiously his ears are turning pink. Kieran chuckles almost imperceptibly under his breath and I give them both clueless looks. Logan stands up again, only to be wrenched back down again by his sister. His jaw is clenched and his body is tight and restrained. I can tell he wants to hit something. _Probably Higgs' face._

Diamond, in a whisper, explains to me that it means a certain part of male anatomy and this time it's me who turns dark red. There are a few other words that I'm not really sure mean but after having received an answer like that, I decide it would be wiser to floo Dominique sometime late in the common room, and enquire about them then instead. Olivia, trying to regain some solid ground, asks Nick and Kieran whether they'd gotten anything. Nick sheepishly points down to two envelopes and grins. She gives a shaky kind of smile back and we watch curiously as he opens both. The first one is in a delicate manila and I instantly recognise Olivia's script. I send her a look and she begs with my eyes not to tell. Her note is sweet but simple, driving straight to the heart ( _excuse the pun_ ) of the matter.

 _Dearest Nick,_

 _I like you more every day,_

 _I like you in every way,_

 _you're kind and charming_

 _It is true_

 _And so this card_

 _Is meant for_

 _YOU._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Secret admirer xxx_

The pieces fit when I remember how on edge Olivia had acted yesterday ( _wow was it really yesterday? I feel like it's been a year since I fired that stink bomb at Filch)_ and I realise that Olivia's crush on Nick must've been what was making her energy crackle and frizz up her hair magically. I look at Nick, trying to judge his reaction, seeing if he feels drawn to the person behind the card. He looks kind of confused and frowny.

"What's wrong?" I pipe up, "I think it's really sweet." Olivia surreptitiously sends me a grateful nod. Nick pockets the card, finally professing that:

"I don't know who it could be from. Who would think I'm charming and kind?" I roll my eyes.

"Obviously someone who's fairly close to you or has any bloody sense." When he still doesn't get it, I add: "Perhaps someone you talk to and are friends with?" I'm trying to get him to realise who it's from, without blowing my cover to Olivia. He blushes and lets out a startled laugh. I think that he may've gotten it because his eyes are alight in realisation.

"It was from _you,_ wasn't it?" he exclaims.

" _What!?"_ I nearly yell out, "How the flipping heck could it have been _me?_ I entered the hall after you, stupid." Nick furrows his 'brow; "You could've asked one of your friends to deliver it."

 _Boys are so oblivious sometimes,_ I think to myself. Aloud I clarify, "It wasn't from me, Nick. I like you-" I ruffle his brown curls playfully, prompting a chuckle from the oblivious boy, "But not in _that_ way." He bats my hand off of him and loses his smile. I know that he's lost and I vow to try help him defigure the right girl later. For now, I point to the other envelope, a small lilac one, that slightly smells of lavenders, and ask: "What's in that?" He shrugs and opens the paper.

The card is of a cute stuffed lion holding a plush heart. Inside the message is long, more like a letter than anything else. I read it out loud from over his shoulder. The scripture reads:

" _Dear Nick,_

 _I'm a complex girl so I'm not going to reveal my identity yet. I like the game, the anticipation, the familiar cat and mouse chase. That's the first thing you should know about me. I have left three clues around the castle for you to find. Don't follow them with your friends, this game is for you alone. The first clue was inspired by what one of your friends said in the hallway, of riddles being really clever and how it suited the Ravenclaw common room entrance-_

Hey! That's what I said last friday," I recall, "We were talking to Kat about her common room versus ours." I tell the group, pointing between me and Nick.

"Rose, read the rest of it." Nick requests quietly. I do as he asks.

" _So your first clue is a riddle. Solve it to find the next (don't worry there are only three clues, including this one)... The riddle will help you find the room you must go to._

 _At night they come out without being fetched,_

 _By day they are lost without being stolen._

 _What are they?_

 _Good luck xxx"_

I laugh at how simple it is. _For someone who's trying to play hard to get, she sure isn't making it very hard._ I think, amusedly. I try meeting Olivia's eyes but she's staring intently at Nick and when I follow her gaze, I can realise why. His face is awe-struck, a wry smile tugging up his lips, his chocolate eyes practically glowing.

"She's clever." he mutters, "I have no idea what room she's talking about; but she sure is invested in me, to go to all this effort." I widen my eyes, shocked, "Are you being serious? The answer is obvious." I gauged the reactions of others, seeing if they've gotten it yet. Olivia and Diamond wear matching blank looks, Logan looks like he's concentrating on trying to think of the answer and Nick is still at a loss. I open my mouth, but when I go to speak, I realise that someone has spelled me silent. I try finding the culprit. Sure enough, Scorpius meets my searching gaze and mouths: "Let him figure it out." before waving his wand slightly and letting me speak again. I glare at him, opening my mouth to protest, then close my mouth reluctantly. Subconsciously, I trace the shape of my ring from under my borrowed t-shirt. Scorpius catches this and gives me a calculated look which I decide to hurriedly ignore. I snap back to my friends, wondering how they haven't figured out that the answer is clearly 'stars' meaning the mystery girl is wanting Nick to go to the Astronomy Tower. However, I do have enough faith in Nick's intellect to know that he'll get it before lunch. I briefly consider going to the Astronomy tower myself to find clue number two, then realise how much I'd that it if Nick did that to me, so I discard the thought.

"I don't agree with Valentine's Day," I say instead. This is predictably answered with raised eyebrows. I take a breath, smiling slightly at being in my element here:

"The whole concept of Valentine's Day is just an elaborate made-up tradition, used by large corporate companies; to make as much profit as possible by selling useless items, such as meaningless cards and teddy bears. By sending gifts or celebrating this day, people are playing into the fat cats' game plans and being the predictable sheeple that I simply refuse to be."

"Sheeple?" Nick quizzes. Olivia smiles in her seat, exchanging a look with Diamond, not meeting Nick's eyes when she translates: "Sheep people. Rose's favourite word to describe those of us who follow the majority in stuff like this." I manage a half-smile.

"You know me so well…" I tease, lightly.

"Talking of sheeple…" Nick begins, tilting his head to the side where the loudest occupants on the Slytherin table are making a commotion. "Wonder which boys have become trapped into _her_ web on this _love_ -ly day." I groan a little at the cheesy pun- deliberately muttering the word 'dork' affectionately under my breath- then turn to see the Black Widow he's talking about. Sure enough Vanessa is having the time of her life tossing her long blonde hair and giggling over the boys who have 'fallen into her web'.

"By web… You mean between her legs, don't you?" I voice out loud, not even trying to be mean but achieving it anyway. Olivia tuts at me and Diamond looks a little grossed out by that notion. Nick rolls his eyes, not needing to use words to tell me that my bluntness could be mistaken for envy if I'm not careful. Vanessa takes a box of chocolates from Jake Shacklebolt and, without stopping her gushing to the dark-skinned handsome boy, passes it onto her girl entourage so they can assess the prize. Adelaide and Beth have both been picked for the unfortunate job of weeding out which chocolates contain love potions and I feel a stab of pity for them each time their eyes turn glazed and they start professing their love for boys they don't even know.

"That's not fair," I pipe up- turning back to my friends and nodding a head at the two girls who have been forced into being mildly poisoned, "They're using Beth and Addy when they could get really ill from testing all those chocolates." Sophie sorts out the 'clean' chocolates from the tainted ones and the other crony (the one who loves texting and agreeing with every single thing Vanessa says) chats up boys and tries her best to look sexy by doing weird pouts and high-pitched giggles. Nick shrugs; "Leave them be, Rose. They willingly went into the Queen Bees squad, what she does with her new minions is up to her to decide."

"But-" I argue. Nick places a fingertip over my mouth, cutting off my protests.

"Not everything is fair in love and war." I think about the war between the cowboys and the Native Americans. _Hmm…_ I can't say that I fully agree with him though.

I finish off my slice of toast and watch as a barn owl delivers me some mail. One is a piece of parchment tacked onto a rose and the other is a letter from Dominique (I can tell by her distinctive writing, along with the fact we write to one another twice a week, if not more). I raise one skeptical eyebrow at the rose.

"Aren't you gonna see who it's from, Rose?" Olivia asks, bubbly and excited again. I tentatively pick up the freshly cut flower, brushing my finger across its thorny stem. I open the tiny piece of paper, intrigued and wary.

 _I thought it'd be ironic to send a rose to a Rose._ Someone has is a short poem:

 _Roses are red,_

 _Violets are blue_

 _Sugar is sweet_

 _Not like you._

 _But the roses are wilting,_

 _The flowers are dead._

 _The sugar bowl's empty_

 _And so is your head._

"Lovely." I snark after finishing reading the message. "I don't even need a crystal ball to know who this is from." I cut a judgemental glance over at the Gryffindor table and I'm totally unsurprised to see Everett McLaggen and Tom Heplon laughing along with Sebastian over me receiving my rose. Sebastian wears a cocky smirk and he pointedly glances down at his many envelopes before looking at my solo rose. His eyes seem to reek fake pity and haughtiness.

"Very funny, Krum." I call out, raising my voice over the din. "Too bad your personality isn't as _interesting_ as your poetry skills." Krum frowns, perhaps not fully understanding my insult. In plain view of him and his cronies I whip out my wand and do a bluebell fire charm, quickly stopping the fire after the rose has smoldered into a pile of ash. I smile, satisfied with my newly learnt spell. I look back to Krum, who's now glaring at me (he probably caught onto the fact I was snarking at his fuckboy personality) and I blow a very sarcastic kiss. He flushes. I turn away from him and his buddies.

Olivia swings her head between the two of us and Diamond's jaw drops. Logan lets out a long, low whistle. I calmly pour myself a cup of chamomile tea, feeling proud and confident having done that.

" _Daaaaamn_ girl" Logan drawls out, "That was sassy as fuck." I laugh behind the rim of my teacup, proud of the appraisal. "What about you, Logan? Got any cards or roses from your peers?" Logan pulls a face.

"Nah, unfortunately my year are too smart for their own good and haven't yet fallen for my irresistible self." Diamond pushes her brother's shoulder while rolling her eyes. Nick, having put away his own cards, tries reassuring the boy.

"Perhaps they're intimidated?" he suggests, "After all you are very extroverted. Your peers may feel scared of being rejected." Logan beams at him, looking happy that someone is acknowledging his looks and personality on this screwed up celebratory day.

"You really think so?" Logan prompts. Diamond cuts off any of what Nick would have said by sighing, exasperatedly: "Don't answer that. He's got a big enough ego as it is." I sip my chamomile tea, then make to leave the hall.

"I'll talk to you later," I tell Olivia and Diamond, reminding them with my eyes that I haven't forgotten the questions they still have for me. I pick up my letter from Dom and wave at the rest of my friends. With, a steadying breath and a rigid spine, I walk back out of the Hall and away from the many faces…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I find a quiet spot near an Oak tree in the courtyard. I sit myself down, a comfortable distance away from other students, and open the letter that I've been sent by my cousin.

 _Rose,_

 _I would tell you to have a happy Valentine's' Day but I know that you won't. I remember the last time I said that to you and how you retaliated by spoiling the ending of The Hunger Games (that was a bitch move btw)! So instead, I'll talk about what you asked me last time you wrote; what to do about Albus. From what you said, it sounds like he's being extra jittery and playing the disappearing act around everyone- not just you. My best advice is for you to talk to him, ask him outright whats going on, and report back to me. Don't worry too much yet- Al's always been shy and it could just be that he's not settling down at Hogwarts yet; I reacted the same way when I first started Beauxbatons. Watch him closely: is he falling behind on class work, is he cutting himself off from his friends, is he having problems making friends? Watch who he interacts with and how he reacts to certain people. Not to stress you out (because I know how stressy you can get) but he could be getting bullied, Rose. Just… Report to me before you put that curly mastermind of yours into overdrive, 'kay?_

 _On another topic: I'm so happy that your mum's accepting that position in the Ministry! She totally deserves to be Minister for Magic, Fleur was very jealous when she found out, which made it all the more funny. Desolée, Rose but I have to end this letter because my roommate is having a hissy fit for me not cleaning up the bathroom *sighs*._

 _Au revoir, chérie_

 _Dom x_

I close the letter and tuck it into my pocket. _Why is it that boys jeans pockets are larger than girls? What's the point of that?_ I have time to think, before my friends round the side of my tree and flood me with chatter and laughter. I watch their progression, thinking idly on why the shy Finnigan had somehow joined Nick, Diamond and Olivia since I left the Hall.

"-and then McLaggen said to Heplon: 'oh yeah? Well, I bet that your momma so fat, her patronus is a cake!' It was well funny." the shy boy is telling them both, seeming to be invested in Olivia's melodic giggle. Diamond swings down beside me and in a stage whisper tells me that the shy boy is really just 'Matthew Finnigan', the so-called 'nice' brother. Kat joins us, stomping through every puddle she sees and looking semi-murderous.

"What's wrong?" I ask straightening and looking worriedly at my closest friend. She waves a piece of parchment in her hand angrily, shooting daggers at the Finnigan shy boy and scaring the bejeezus out of him.

"What's wrong is how Higgs sent me this _blasted skrewt of a Valentine_ and now I can't get anything to clear my mind of his words. Bloody hell, I didn't even know the slimeball could write properly, nevermind construct something as disgusting as that!" she shoves the paper into my hand, flopping down next to me and crossing her arms defiantly over her chest. In her fit of temper she doesn't filter any of her thoughts, which works in my favour (considering that I didn't really want much company today).

"What's Gryffindor boy doing here?" she jambs her thumb at Matthew, making the poor boy jump. "I thought Gryffindork's hung out in clumps and boasted about how awesome they were in their common room," she adds, not paying any mention to the joint scolding looks from Diamond and Olivia.

"Isn't that hypocritical considering you're a Ravenclaw?" Diamond sneers back at her. I don't notice the a=exchange because I'm too busy reading the vile note.

 _Kat,_

 _You looked so fucking hot at that ball and because our parents are close I thought now was best to tell you all the stuff I imagine you and me doing. I want to kiss you til your mouth is bleeding and you're crying from pain. I want to-_

I do a bluebell fire charm on the rest of the note, not bothering to read the rest, and shudder at the immense ickiness of the note. "That's fucking twisted!" I shout out, in indignation. Kat nods her head, "How far did you read?" she asks, still simmering in rage. I narrow my eyes in frustration, "Up to the part of wanting you to 'cry in pain'. I swear to Salazar that when I next see that boy I'm gonna-"

"I… Should go…" Matthew's butts in, trying to edge away from us both. I can't blame him- either me or Kat being angry is scary enough, never mind us _both_ being fuming. Diamond stands up and leaves with him, pulling Olivia alongside. Nick hovers for a moment longer and I understand that he's undecided where he wants to be. His face brightens and I somehow know that when he waves goodbye, he's going to head to the Astronomy Tower to look for his second clue.

I try comforting Kat, pulling out a Twix bar that I'd pocketed on my way to the courtyard, and distributing the chocolatey snack between the two of us. I let her rant and rave and try out a wand-movements (in preparation for when she next sees the Higgs creep).

"What about if you get caught?" I question around a bite of Twix. Her striking blue eyes turn coy. "Don't worry, Rose, I'm a Ravenclaw remember? I won't get caught."

"And if you do?" I raise a stubborn eyebrow. Nodding that she can eat the rest of my Twix when she eyes it up. She flashes me a cheeky Kat-like grin.

"Then, I'll deal with it then." I roll my eyes, letting her bounce away to go hatch her Plan B in private and make my way into a standing position. The courtyard suddenly becomes busier when a stream of students: Kum's gang, Scorpius and Kieran, The Scamander's' group, all included comes strolling from around one of the Hogwarts doorways. A sharp sting and a hot itchy feeling makes me yelp and look down to find the source of it. My onyx ring, the one I'd found at the riverbank during the Christmas break, has left a faint burn mark onto my skin and radiates heat. I try detaching the ring but stop beforehand, feeling that familiar urge in my gut that I'm being watched. That I can't let anyone see the artifact. Despite my logical side saying that I'm being stupid, that I should remove the tied up ring immediately, I follow the instruction and sprint my way back to my dorm. I run past kissing couples, jealous ex talks, mindless babble and taunting observers. I run fast, as fast as I can, through the hallways, past the tapestries, down the cold stone stairways and past the forms of Marissa and Kieran playing chess. I surpass the common room and reach my dorm panting and sweating from exertion. I stagger my way to the bathroom, looking at the wild-haired, wide-eyed girl in the mirror. She looks tired, scared, alone. My ring, the one that's been burning my chest, rapidly decreases in temperature. I feel the prickling of tears in my eyelids and I wonder if my adrenaline has dropped and the pain is what's making my eyes dampen. In an abrupt move I try lifting the necklace from my neck. The string moves but the ring will not so much as budge from its position on my neck. The onyx stone winks at me in the relative magicked light. My heartbeat slows to a steadier rhythm even as I try spelling the ring off of me. It doesn't work. The stupid thing is stuck there. No matter what spells I use.

I was my face with cold water from the tap and smoothen down my crazy curls. I look at the ring, deciding it's best to leave it on for now, in case one of my spells backfire.

"I will find out what you are," I tell the onyx black jewel. I vow on it mentally, remembering Kat's reaction to it and hoping against all hope, I haven't somehow bonded with a dark artifact.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Hey fellow readers! Terribly sorry for the delay, I pinky promise to update again this Sunday (because of the end of this chapter). Hope y'all like it and my three worded prompt :) pink, Filch, creepy... Happy reading!**

 _You're gonna get caught. Fuck, this was a bad idea._

"Shut up."

 _Have you gone completely nuts, Rose? Are you seriously so far gone that you can't see how illogical this was?_

"It seemed like a smart idea."

 _Oh yeah? How the hell did someone as 'smart' as you get into this crap?_

"I need to find out about this ring. I have to. It could be a dark object."

 _What if you get caught though, huh? You haven't found anything so far and it's already… Twenty-three past eleven. You're breaking curfew._

"It will be worth it," I vow to myself. Hoping against all hope that it's true. And that my overthinking brain would just shut up and let me carry on with my search. I sing a song- one of those annoying pop ones that Victoire likes in my head, letting the irritating tune replay. Dimming that snide voice that's always such a goody-goody two shoes.

The fabric swamps me, shimmering in soft waves across my body and making me fully invisible to anyone outside of this cloak. I feel scared, the pangs of fear from a confrontation with a teacher and the possibility of finding something I didn't want to- or worse yet, going to all this trouble to find nothing at all- is making my hair stand on end and my curls crackle and spark in the hasty bun that was ensnaring it.

Deeper and deeper I wade into the restricted section of the library, sending promises to God- if he's watching and looking down on me- that I will eat all my vegetables and not row with my brother, as long as he gives me luck in my search and from not getting caught. Ironically, it is as I'm saying this that I happen to stumble across a dark form. I jump, letting out an unsuppressable squeal and jumping about a foot into the air. I swing my wand towards the tangible shape and sigh in relief when it's just the side of a table. _Don't be such a wuss!_ I chastise myself, forcing my body to straighten and my eyes to skim over the spines of book covers. As my eyes drift over the words of Dark books on jinxes and curses and rituals, I become lost in the memory from this evening, when I'd ventured into enemy land to seek out Albus and his inherited cloak…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Being stood outside a portrait of a very pink, fat lady was not my idea of a good Saturday night. Especially when the woman begins to open her mouth to interrogate me in a very intrusive Gryffindor-esque way.

"Who. Are. _You?"_ She surveys my emerald-striped tie and sniffs pretentiously. "What would a Slytherin want with one of my Gryffindors." I suppress the urge to roll my eyes, knowing that I'll need to get on this woman's good side to be allowed entry. Instead, I muster up my best fake smile, a polite stretch of my lips which feels plasticky. Sickly sweet.

"I'm terribly sorry about this, Madam. It's just my Gryffindor cousin- Albus Potter- he sent a letter via owl requesting me to come here immediately. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him, I swear." The lie feels wrong on my tongue, like something thick and cloying and I feel brief guilt for exploiting my cousins name. The fat pink lady straightens her back and sweeps me an appraising look.

"You're _the_ Weasley, then." she trills, loud enough to attract neighbouring portrait's attention. I keep my smile fixed on my face and my eyes trained on hers.

"' _The'_ Weasley?" I repeat, forcing myself not to fidget. The plump hand flutters down to her chest and her heavily mascaraed eyes shutter open and closed as if she's distressed.

"You know… The one who went to that godforsaken snake pit. Oh, poor dear, I do not envy you at all. Being among those prejudiced blue bloods, ha! Must've been torture for such a red-haired lionhearted one as yourself." _Prejudiced? The only one acting 'prejudiced' right now is herself! And who is she to talk about my heart? How the hell does she know whether I'm a fucking lion or not? What the hell does that even mean!?_ I grit my teeth, hardly able to restrain myself from choking the woman with her string of pearls. _Oh, if only…_

"-we all assume that the Sorting hat must've made a mistake. I mean there's no way that-"

"Excuse me, what?" I've tuned back into her blabber, which has since dropped octaves,into a conspiratorial whisper.

"I was just saying that we don't think that the old garment has placed you in the right house, dear. Weasley's, red haired troupe as you are, belong with the courageous warriors, not with those insolent snobs."

"Who is 'we'?"

"The portraits, of course. Some of your cousins as well, might I add." This hits me like a stab wound to the stomach. I feel betrayed at the idea of my cousins gossiping about me in front of this narrow-minded woman. I wonder _which_ of those cousins she's referring to; then quickly decide that I don't really want to know.

"May I please enter?" I manage. The woman and her eavesdropping companions all look pitying. It's as if they're saying that they're sorry about my misfortunate sorting. That I'm too outcast to enter the portrait hole. A flush spreads across my cheeks. I know that my answer is a no, even before those bright pink lips open to say as such.

"Sugared quills." A voice cuts in from behind me. I recognise that arrogant voice, the haughty smirk ever-present on Se-bastard's face, and I scowl at him. The portrait door swings open and he gestures with his hand for me to go first. Not trusting him to be behind me, I stay still, waiting for him to saunter past. He does this and I follow him, snarking: "Age before beauty" and glowering at his amused chuckle.

The Gryffindor Common room is the complete contrast of the Slytherin room. Where my commons were tranquil and otherworldly, this one was noisy and earthly. The sounds of loud chatter, squeaks, squeals, giggles, chuckles, grunting, back-slapping, taunting, jestering teens bombards my ears. I wince. Light is spread across every crevasse of this show-offy place, warm orange fires crackling in their hearths, disarrayed couches placed haphazardly across the carpeted floor. I feel exposed in this foreign room, not one hiding space can be found, every crevasse and nook and cranny is alight. Put on display. _Typical Gryffindor._ Homework is spread over pretty much every surface, many disregarded as friends socialise; neglected like the food pieces equally as out of sorts. Instinctively, I survey the occupants after I've observed the doors, shape and quality of the room.

Of course, it's James who is balancing a spoon on his nose, loudly proclaiming to his fans that he is now a 'pro' and that they should all be bowing down to him. Fred laughs at some lame joke playing the ever-loyal sidekick. Roxanne is sat next to her brother, flirting shamelessly with the handsome Shacklebolt boy. Her lazy gaze and wicked smirk promise danger to the unsuspecting boy and I widen my eyes and look away when she closes the gap. Victoire is recounting to her airheaded followers over in one corner wearing a red silk dressing gown which complimented her fair ( _or should I say_ un- _fair)_ beauty. Jasmine Patil and Polly Chapman appear to be especially interested in her tales; as both are wide-eyed and hanging onto each and every word that leaves her mouth. Matthew Finnigan is testing out a spell, I watch while his brow furrows in concentration and a spark emits from the tip of his wand. The boy jumps back, startled by the outcome. I roll my eyes. _Dude really should pick up his textbook sometime._

Sebastian Krum interrupts my survey by waving a hand over my face. I snap back to his bushy eyebrows and dark eyes.

"Your welcome," he smirks.

"For what? Entering your own commons. Congratulations, Krum, you know how to work your own portrait." I do three slow claps. His eyes darken.

"I let you in," he says behind a clenched jaw. I raise one defiant eyebrow.

"I could've gotten in by myself."

"Sure you could've," he rolls his eyes. I'm oddly unimpressed by the familiar gesture. It was _my_ trademark. Not his. "Are you always such an ungrateful chit?"

"Chit?" I snickered. "What are we _Victorians_?" The jibe misses Sebastian by a mile. I'm not surprised that he's not read up on muggle history.

"Would you prefer I called you a wench?" He shoots back at me. My eyes flash in indignation.

"You have foul manners for someone as famous as they say. Or did daddy dearest never teach you any manners?" Krum steps towards me. I hold my ground.

"Don't you dare talk to me about my family, Weasley. My 'daddy' is a global champion."

"And what does he think of his kin? Did you tell him of me bludgeoning you _again_ last Thursday as you, _once again,_ got whooped by my team." He growls- genuinely fucking _growls-_ at me. His hand rises quickly, he scoops up a lock of my hair, I flinch, thinking he's going to yank it out. He doesn't. He rubs it between his fingers, revelling in my brief display of fear, debating with himself.

"Is something wrong?" Albus's quiet voice cuts through the tension like a knife. Krum glares into my cousins scared emerald eyes. I put my hand deliberately onto Krum's, turning the attention from jumpy Albus back to me. "Nothing's wrong." I say, staring straight into Krum's eyes as I steel my tone. "We're done here." My eyes bore into the Gryffindor heir and he tugs lightly on my hair.

"We're not done here," he threatens, "Trust me, Rose, I haven't even started." he lets go of my hair, spins on his heel then strolls over to where his sidekicks- Heplon and McLaggen- are waiting. He doesn't look back. He knows he's won this round. _Damn it!_ I take several deep breaths before I swivel back to Al.

I put a hand on his jumper, frowning in concern at his flinch. He tugs the hem down, though it's already at his wrists. _That's odd,_ I notice, _he's wearing a long-sleeved jumper when it's boiling hot in here._ His eyes shift to his right. Then to his left.

"We need to talk," I say. Emerald meet hazel before sliding quickly away. I leave his jittery gaze to sweep my eyes back over the bold and brash colours of this room. "But not here. Is there anywhere more private?" Albus nods, tugs on my robes and I follow him into a spiral staircase, following him up to his dorms. The dorm is pretty much the same as the common room; crimson and gold laid out for all to see and large beds smushed close to one another. I wonder whether Gryffindors ever feel too smothered by the near proximity of everything ranging from furniture to people. _Do they ever feel lonely?_ I muse to myself. I drink in Albus' shadowed under eyes, his nervousness, the black cloud which seems to trail after him like a tangible lackey. _Of course they do; just look at my cousin._

He turns to me, sitting crossed-legged onto his bed, waiting for me to speak. His dorm has three other neighbouring beds and turret windows to let sunlight stream through. For a moment I'm envious of him being able to see the sunlight and not having to rely on daylight charms. I push it away, remembering the reason why I'm here.

"I need your help," I begin by saying "You know that invisibility cloak your dad gave to you? Well, I kinda need it." Albus scratches his head in thought. I know what's coming next; the question I've been dreading:

"What for?"

I wring my hands together, shuffling a little under the spotlight and not liking that I cannot avoid the answer. "I need to go to the restricted section," I confess, "There's something that I'm worried about which I need to research." His eyebrows jump up in surprise.

"Why can't you just ask a teacher for a permission slip. That way, you could find what you're searching for and not have to be invisible all the while."

"I don't want the teachers to know." I reply. I avoid those piercing eyes, shadowed by contemplation and dark thoughts.

"Rosie… What if you get caught? You could get expelled." I gulp. My voice shakes a little.

"I know."

I meet his stare and try transfer the urgency behind my request. I _need_ to know where my ring comes from- whether it's a dark artifact or not. Though it has not acted up since the courtyard incident, I can't help but feel concerned. A silent understanding passed between us. Slowly, he nods his head. "Take the cloak," he whispers "Return it after you've finished with it,or else dad'll get mad at me." I nod, a grateful smile blooming across my face. In an impulsive rush of gratitude I launch myself at my cousin, grabbing his arms and hugging him fiercely around his torso. He stiffens, unaccustomed and wary of the gesture, but gradually relaxes. The tension melts away and he hugs me back. A spark of hope flutters in my chest.

"I won't get caught," I promise to him, "I can't risk Professor McGonagall finding out and expelling me. Expulsion would be... " I shudder at the mere thought, " _Awful."_

Quietly, a mere whisper of a breath, so lightly said it could've been a figment of my imagination I catch Albus' words.

"Would it?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A book slips from my grasp, jarring my back into the present. I startle at the noise it makes and the wailing that commences when its papers are spread open. Shrieking loud and clear attacks my ears, I cringe, reflexively crouching and covering up, shying away from the noise. The wail echoes across the library and distantly I hear a distinctive meow. _Mrs Norris. Shit!_ I scramble away from the book, where a ghostly figure is climbing from the inky depths, and start sprinting past the bookshelves. My heart pounds as I scutter through the winding towers of dusty, forbidden tomes. A flash of fear ignores my senses, sending electricity scuttling down my veins and a sweat to break out at my hairline. I follow the light of my wand, ears on high alert for the unmistakable clomping of Filch's thick boots and the soft padding of his evil cat. Paranoid that I'm going to get caught I dispatch the light by uttering "Nox." and step back into the gloomy passageways. _Please don't see me, please don't see me._ The wailing cuts off sharply when a resolute _thud_ sounds out. The slimy voice of Filch makes my hair stand on end.

"A student out of bed?" he croons to his cat, "Tut tut, what should we do? The Headmistress shan't be pleased about this." A meow of agreement. "And in the restricted section as well." The voice raises into a sing-song cajole: "Come out, come out wherever you are! You can run but you can't hide from us…" His cackle makes my heart hiccup in terror. Images fly past my mind's-eye, playing against me in the most unjust of manners. My mother's disappointed look, my father's dismissal. Hugo's wide, baby blues as he pities me: _the black sheep Weasley._

I'm so blind with terror that I'm oblivious to the figure until it's too late. One hand clasps my mouth firmly, muffling my shocked cry, while the other snakes around my waist and yanked me backwards into a hidden alcove. My wand drops from my hand and rolls slowly back next to my kidnappers feet. My first instinct is to struggle and flail against my captor's arms. I do this, bucking and trying to reach him, but to no avail. I still when I hear Filch's voice nearing my spot, his lantern swinging like an illusion of safety. I don't know who the hell is holding me but I conclude that if they're hiding me from Filch surely they hold my best interests in mind.

"Meddlesome kids…" The grouchy voice mutters. His lantern swings a metre from where I'm hidden. I freeze. Letting the boy draw me more tightly against him and into the shadows. _Creaak!_ Filch's footsteps hit a squeaky wooden slat and the noise frightens the hell out of me. Fortunately, it also disturbs his wretched cat who yips and bristles at its abruptness. The man kneels down to stroke her and the lantern swings away from where we're stood. Slowly, he inched past us, oblivious to us both. My cloak is in a puddle of silk at my feet. I'm grateful that it stays hidden by the murkiness of my silhouette.

When Filch has retreated out of the restricted section, drawn away by the heavy footfalls of a patron, I let myself breathe in relief. The restricting arms ease from around me and I turn to see who rescued me. "Lumos," he whispers into the darkness. A soft orb of white light illuminates us both. It's Lysander who's hidden there, his widened eyes curious and guarded all at once. His blonde hair is mussed from sleep and his sweatpants and band shirt super wrinkled.

"What are you doing here?" I hiss at him. He blinks at me blankly.

"I couldn't sleep," he responds, a little edgily.

"So you decided to take an impromptu stroll into the restricted section?" I'm suspicious.

"Why are you here?" he deflects, a knowing smile decorating his sleepy face.

"I was… Bored."

"Ah, Rose… Please don't lie to me," his soft voice carries. I swallow the bullshit I'd just invented. I briefly debate whether I should tell the Scamander twin my plans or not. I remember encountering him at the Burrow and how scary it was when he approached me to fanboy over my aura.

"Fine. I'm not here because I'm bored, I'm actually here because I found this stupid ring and it keeps acting all weird and my friend Kat thinks it might be a dark artifact and holy crap I'm scared of being caught out of my dorm at this hour and I'm _kinda_ freaking out right now!" I blurt out in a jumble of words and semi-hysterical babbling. I stop to catch my breath. Lysander looks a little taken back by my rant. I'm not surprised: I'm surprised I've let on this much to someone who knows so little of me.

"May I see it?" he queries, getting over his initial surprise.

"Huh?" I respond oh-so-elegantly.

"Your ring? May I take a look?" I nod my head slowly, fetching it from under my neckline. The onyx crystal glitters darkly in the gentle glow of wand light. Lysander delicately handles the ring, twisting it this way and that.

"There is an inscription," he comments in his dreamy voice, "It's quite an ancient text but I'm sure I've seen it before." He drops the ring and tilts his head, a quizzical smile forming.

"I found it on a riverbank." I confess, tucking the treasure from sight.

"How curious… Yes, yes, very curious indeed."

"What's curious?" I frown.

His gaze pins me like I'm a butterfly that he's mentally fixing onto a corkboard. It's intense and I feel jittery under his spotlight. He picks up my hand, brushing his lips across my knuckles in an odd antiquated gesture. I blush, thinking about how bizarre all of this is. Instead of dropping my hand, he loops it over his arm and guides me deeper into the maze of shelves.

"I'm restless… I cannot sleep and I cannot find the answers I seek." His voice is little more than a whisper, a sliver of speech on a breath of air. I notice how he doesn't answer my question.

"Why can't you sleep?" I ask the oddball twin.

"Have you used your stone?" My frown morphs into a scowl. I'm tired of my questions being answered with questions. A surge of impatience clamours within me.

"My question first." He doesn't even glance back. He stills at a shelf, refusing to travel any further, scans his eyes across the spines of ancient texts.

"Which question do you wish to be answered?"

"What, are you a genie now?" I snort. His eyes cut me a look.

"Is that your question?"

"No!" The volume of my voice makes me cringe and I forcibly lower it back to a whisper. "I want to know why you're in the restricted section? Why can't you sleep?"

"That's two questions."

My fists clench at his meticulousness. I open my mouth to deliver a scathing comment but he cuts me off before I can even utter the first syllable.

"But fine. I shall answer both…" This time his eyes do meet mine. The dreaminess is there but also not. He looks concerned and weary, especially for someone so young. I wait patiently for him to speak. Sure enough, a moment later, he does;

"Sleep deserts me because it is something for the peaceful of mind. Dreams and visions plague me. I am neither there nor here, for I am nothing at all. Nothing but an observer, Rose, don't you see?" his eyes, so startling in their clarity, lock onto mine. His voice cracks and I feel his worry as if it were my own. His voice trembles, his gaze is earnest and pleading, and it scarers me slightly. "I can't stop it, I can't I can't I can't. Mother told me I shouldn't and so I shan't but it's so hard. Don't you see, Rose? Don't you see?" His hands clutch my shoulders.

"It's okay, it's alright. I'm sure it'll all work out in the end." I try to soothe him, all the while my head whirls with questions and jumbled thoughts. _What is he talking about? Why is he so distressed?_ "What is it that you can't change?"

"The future." he whispers. I gasp.

"Y-y-you're a seer!?" He nods once, not wavering his gaze, as I come to terms with his secret.

"I won't pry," I tell him firmly "But no matter what you've seen you should take Luna's advice and keep it to yourself." He takes a deep breath, exhales it slowly. Hangs his head to collect his thoughts, then after a few minutes, looks up and nods definitively.

"Thank you," he murmurs, "I needed that." I nod my head: It's fine. Despite my words, I am still immensely curious as to what he's seen which has freaked him out so much. I want to know badly- _very much so-_ but my own mother has drilled into me that messing with time can have some dire consequences and that 'it is always best to let the future unravel as it always should've been.' When she'd told me this I'd reminded her of how she's saved Buckbeak's life when _she'd_ used time travel, but she's rebutted me with a firm " _Don't you dare try mess with time missy! We were lucky that time, Harry and I, but let's not tempt fate."_

In the present Lysander is humming to himself, a Wizards lullaby I think, while staring at one book. He cuts off the tune and turns to leave. I grab his t-shirt, swivelling him back.

"What are you doing?" I hiss. "Is that the book?" I point with my free hand to the book he's been staring at. It has a dark emerald ratty spine with some words printed onto it. I peer closer, squinting my eyes to configure the writing into recognisable words. Finally I make out what it says: _Seidr Magic._ I'm confused; I have not heard this type before. I reach out to take the book-

"No, wait!" Lysander yells. I freeze, dart my eyes to meet his. He shudders, eyes cloudy and mouth turned down. "I don't think you should touch that book," he tells me. "I have a bad feeling, like-like it's evil or something?" He ducks his head, aware of how stupid that sounds.

"I dunno… It just… When I saw it I heard this tune, this rhyme that was creepy and I saw a room."

"A room?"

"A dark room with a bunch of strange objects and this awful cackling." He tugs on one of my wrists- not releasing it. I roll my eyes.

"Don't you think you're taking this a bit too far? I mean, yeah it has a creepy vibe but if it shows me information about my ring…" I reach out with my other hand, ignoring his words of protest. At first, nothing happens, and I turn to snark at Lysander. All I feel is the worn fabric backing. The strong spine under my hands. Until it falls out from beneath me, the pages fluttering rapidly as though trapped in a mini-whirlwind. My eyes widen and I lose my footing. The floor disappears from beneath us and I recognise the unmistakable feeling of being squished and squashed and stretched around the book which has latched back onto my hand. I spin, round and round and round, Lysander clung onto my arm- following unwillingly behind me. I scream, terrified, knowing that the book- _that damned book!-_ is really just a portkey. The world is a spectrum of colours and sensation. Until it all goes black.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I am a girl of my word! Next chapter, as promised :) Not gonna give prompts because it's short and gritty and I cut it off for that oh-so-lovely tension/drama ;) mwahahaha... Hope y'all like it!**

Ever heard the term 'Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall?' It's a Biblical quote that I've come across before in one of my muggle religious studies books. It basically means that pride is the first thing to lead you to destruction. As I'm spinning and stretching and feeling the awful sensation of the world spinning out from beneath me, I can't help but think back on the line. _Why didn't I listen to Lysander? Why did I touch the book regardless of his warnings?_ I know the reason why. It's because I'm too damn stubborn. Countless times I've been warned against it; 'you're too big for your boots, missy' was a common one, as was 'just wait til you're wrong. What'll you do then?'. Karma's such a bitch sometimes.

The fall does come. I'd braced myself for it- but even so the jarring impact of hitting a very solid, very _real_ floor from a two metre distance, wracks my bones and joints with pain and makes the breath _whoosh_ from my lungs. A millisecond later, Lysander slams onto the ground next to me, grunting at the sensation of abrupt landing.

"I… Hate... Portkeys." I gasp between pained shallow breaths. He cocks his head in my direction, 'I told you so' shining from his accusatory eyes. I turn away to stand up and take in the place we've entered. The first thing I notice is the musty old basement smell that this place has and the undertones of something rotten. The dimly lit interior reveals evil-looking masks leering down from the walls, an assortment of oddities on dusty shelves and rusted sharp instruments dangling down from the ceiling. On a plump velvet cushion in one of the cases there lies a strand of long curled black hair. The counter is a compilation of grimy bones and antiquated objects- such as traditional jewellery perhaps plucked from corpses themselves.

"What is this place?" I whisper into the despairing building. I presume that it's empty due to the sound me and Lysander caused landing here but one can never be too sure with these things. Lysander's back is turned and his gaze is pointed at the small window that I hadn't noticed before. Through the fractured glass, a long winding alleyway peeks out at us, spilling sounds of distant cackles and shrieks. I inch closer to him, feeling a shiver of apprehension raise gooseflesh on my skin. I rub my arms, trying to warm the chill making me stiffen in fear and my blood turn to ice in my veins. Lysander runs his palm across the window, clearing some of the grime smothering it and revealing yellow light from further down the road from a raucous inn. Wherever we are, I know one thing for sure: this is not a safe place to be. I look down at my hands, surprised to see that I'm still holding the portkey and I almost drop it out of sheer revulsion before deciding that t would only draw more attention to our presence.

"And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles to betray's in deepest consequence." Lysander muses aloud, "Act One, Scene three in Macbeth."

"Why are you quoting Macbeth?" I whisper, bemused. He lazily waves his blackened hand to the book tightly clasped in mine. His voice is wearied and ancient when he speaks.

"That book, this shop, the inhabitant of this place they are all your witches meaning to lead you to harm." _Is he suggesting that the ring I have is one of these 'evil instruments'?_

"I don't understand."

"You are searching for the truths are you not? Your ring and your prophecy both intertwine in your fate but I caution you to look beyond the surface of what you see." _Could he make it any more obscure?_ I wonder. Lysander loses his scholarly tone, flippantly adding that we are in Knockturn Alley. More specifically in a shop named Borgin and Burkes.

"Borgin and Burkes?" I echo, tasting the name out on my tongue, rolling the syllables to the extent that what I really say sounds alien. Lysander doesn't respond. His silence speaks volumes. I hear a sound- distant at first, then more prominent- grow from out of the fragile, neglected window. It's the sound of footsteps, a man hurrying through the streets towards the direction of this shop of oddities and bizarre contraptions. All I can make out is his well-worn black jacket, with its collar upturned against the cool night. His head looks up, at the window, and we both duck down out of sight.

"What should we do?" I ask Lysander worriedly. His eyes are dazed and unseeing. I shake his arm, his shoulder, prod at his face. He doesn't respond to my movements- it's like-like he's in some sort of trance. As the stranger raps out a rhythm, a _tap-tap-tap_ on the front door, I drag Lysander and me around one of the jutted out shelves, terrified all of a sudden.

From behind the back room a man grumbles to himself, mumbling about wanting some kind of forewarning and hissing slurred cursatives. He steps out and all I see of his stooping frame is greased back hair and beady little eyes. The shopkeep opens the front door, somewhat reluctantly, to the man. When the man steps into the light, the first man says to the traveller "Ha! What a sight you look like!" The man with the coat is in view and I risk a peek to see mousy brown hair, square glasses and a short body.

"Borgin." the mousy-haired one spits out, as if he's really saying something like 'dagger' or 'terrorist.' He continues his sneering disdain. "I would say that it's nice to see you again, but to be perfectly honest never would be too soon to see your ugly face again." Mr Borgin lets out a delighted cackle.

"You're not one to talk about faces, when you're not even wearing your own… A muggle! What, are the Ministry folk not cutting it for you anymore?"

"I need discretion" comes the stern reply. It sounds silly coming from the feeble-looking man. "When Ministry officials start to go missing, they panic. It hasn't been so long, lest you forget, since the Dark Lord was around."

"How can I forget?" snides the old crook. The muggle-looking man backhands the shopkeeper in a vicious and sudden strike. The sound reverberates from within the shop, making me hunch closer to the blind Lysander.

"Know your place, old man." hisses the visitor. "You wouldn't like it if _she_ found out about your lack of disrespect now, would you?" Mr Borgin gulps. I can see his hands shaking in a faint tremor and he bows his head at his 'guest' formally. The other man rubs his hairless chin a very familiar manner. I wonder if I've encountered this man before. I doubt it, seen as though apparently this man is not really himself. He is 'wearing the face' of another. I wonder exactly what that means. _Either a disillusionment charm or polyjuice._ I conclude to myself.

"I meant no harm," he licks his cracked lips. His beady eyes water in plea. "I overstepped my mark. I shall not do so again."

The response is haughty, strict; "Nor do I expect you to. My rank is higher than yours and she's been favouring me of late." I wonder what 'she' they are both referring to.

As though he's been drowning slowly and has only just risen to the surface, Lysander gasps sharply. I turn to him, clapping a hand over his mouth, trying to stop the inevitable. I glance back over only to see the two men stilled and turning my way. The sagging space seems to have shrunk that much smaller. My heart skips a beat. My breathing stutters to a stop. The icy fingers of dread snake up my spine. _Please don't see us, please don't see us._ Footsteps near us both.

"Well, well…" says the falsely feeble man. "What do we have here?"


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Kinda exhausted, kinda hyper. I know I'm no sales person but I swear y'all need to read the Accident Season by Moira Fowley-Doyle- it's actually AMAZING! 'Kay, I have homework and I need sleep so ciao!**

The footsteps drew nearer and my breathing speeds up, my heart race pounding, fear chilling me right to the barest of my bones and making me paralysed. Trapped. Terrified. _Oh God please don't see me. Don't see me, please, please, please._ I hold my breath as the Mr Borgin's 'guest' draws nearer to my shadowed corner. The deceitful expression on his feeble face, the way his eyes gleam in malicious glee through the lenses of the boxy glasses, the hideous smirk that springs from chapped lips. I wonder if it's already too late- after all, I'd heard the 'what have we got here' just as much as the other occupants of the shop had. Talking of the other occupants, I risk a quick glance to check what Borgin himself makes of this new development. He's hunched over, relying on the solid grimy countertop to keep him from sliding down to the grotty floor. I'm once again struck by repulsion for the man. Why he let his shop crumble into such neglected abandonment escaped me. The other one's footsteps are louder than the sound of my heartbeat. It's like a knell- summoning me to the direst of misfortunes- so I close my eyes. I huddle closer to Lysander's side, grasping onto his tee-shirt and burrowing my face unabashedly against his shoulder, too scared of being discovered to worry about my neediness. His warmth helps quieten my shallow inhales and shuddered sobs.

After having seen the callousness of the stranger and how he'd spoken feverously about _her,_ I have no doubt he'd snap my neck in an eyeblink if he thought I'd become an inconvenience to him. Particularly if I burdened whatever sickly warped mission he was on. With my eyes firmly shuttered I waited... For the footsteps pause. A soft sound, like that of fabric dragging across the floor, whispers across to me. A breeze from the cloth caresses my face. I wonder how long it will take until I'm discovered. My heart jumps to my throat; every second feeling longer than the last. Until the footsteps begin moving again but strangely further away from where we are. I risk a glance.

The invisibility cloak is pinched between the finger and thumb of the traveller's hand. He dangles it mockingly above the shopkeeper's face. His jeering smile helps me realise that against the odds, we've not been spotted. My second thought, however, is _shit, Albus is gonna kill me if I don't return that cloak…_ Lysander squeezes my arm. 'Time to go' he mouths. He falls back onto his haunches then still-bent utters a complex disillusionment charm and a strong silencing one. He interlaces my fingers with his and I try not to focus on the fact that we're practically sat on one another at this point. I try blotting out the voice of the mousy-haired villain but I can't. My senses feel hyper-aware and adrenaline is pumping rapidly through my veins.

"Well, well, well. Didn't think you'd get away with hiding _this_ treasure now, did you?" Lysander pulls me up and we crouch-crawl further among the shadowed shelves.

"I don't know what you're talking about." snipes the grouchy man. Lysander's eyes, now startlingly clear, silently urge me to follow him into a little nook which winds all the way round the shop. If we follow this route there is a small gap which the two may catch sight of us. However, it leads to the store-room where the shopkeeper had just come out from and therefore would contain the back door. I try evaluating any other options. All I can come up with is the portkey (which I don't know how to activate- I may be advanced with spells but I'm not quite _that_ advanced) and going out the front door (definite no-no. We'd get caught and jinxed faster than I could say Walloping wandalows). I nod following him through.

"I'm talking about this invisibility cloak, you moron, you know that she's wanted one of these for a long time." Round and round the shop we crawl. Passing the bony skeleton hands and strange jars of neon goop, bark-like cushions which hiss and crackle and eyeless-voodoo dolls which stare down ominously. "Well, it's not mine." the shopkeeper insists stubbornly. Sounds of scuffling break out and I hear a definite yelp from Mr Borgin before hissing tones slither across from Mr Dangerous. "Don't try and deceive me, you old imbecile. You forget that I'm much smarter than you and much better a con-man than you can ever dream of becoming." The gap is there, right in front of us. Lysander surreptitiously slides across. I go to follow him but duck back when beady eyes flit around desperately. The old man's legs dangle in the air and the invisible hands choking him seem to amuse the first one.

"What… Did… You… Come here... For." he chokes out. With a wave of his wand he releases him. Mr Borgin realises before the man tells him, answering his own question: "You came for more ingredients… I'm afraid I can't help you there. The Ministry-" again with that distasteful tone, "-are already leaping down my throat about me having dragon's blood here. Claim its 'against their rights' or some other rubbish."

"I need more." Mr Borgin turns his back and I use the opportunity to step across the open space, only breathing once I'm in the clear. "I can't keep using the one up there. It's gaining notice from the other teachers. Polyjuice takes time to make as well." The expansion of ords is grudging, as though talking too much was undesirable for the customer.

"I'll see what I can do."

Lysander whispers something behind one of his hands and his wand produces a glowing orb of light. We scramble to our feets just as the light disappears and reappears from outside the shop. It distracts the two men, especially when it morphs into the shape of Mad-eyed Moody. The light stops being white and forms into his exact replica. I'm befuddled, star-struck by seeing someone borne of my mum and dad's past. I'm shaken from my stupor by Lysander who tugs on my hand and sneaks us both behind the counter, through the musty living space behind and out of a side door which looks in good shape (compared to the rest of the shop). We don't tick around long enough to see the two men waft a hand through Mad eyed-moody and have him dissipate before their eyes. Nor long enough to hear the bespectacled man inform the shopkeeper that the spell was 'Child's play' and that it 'had probably been some hooker's idea of a joke'.

Instead we stagger into the fresh air dragging in breaths of fresh air and stumbling over a low grey-brick wall onto the narrow alleyway that loomed just ahead. Our eyes are wide with relief, our hearts thumping in sync. our palms are sweaty, our legs shaky but we carry on. Not risking being seen by the people of the night.

"What was that charm you pulled?" I whisper to him as he leads me deeper into the night.

"When I was young, I had trouble sleeping. When I slept I dreamt of future tragedies and so I became terrified of the night. My mother taught me the charm so that we could create stories and relive happy tales together, so that at night I wouldn't be as scared as I had been." His smile is nostalgic, shadowed eyes wistful.

"Why mad-eyed moody?" He laughs, drawing a few suspicious eyes from a group of nearby witches haggling with some burly men.

"He was the only intimidating Wizard I could think of from the top of my head. I remembered the tale of him turning Scorpius' dad into a ferret as if it were yesterday." I smile at that, imagining what embarrassment and horror someone would undergo after having been turned into something like that.

When we run into a huddle of people we break out into a sprint and I rely on Lysander's seer intuition to guide us back to Hogwarts. Running at the dead of night with someone who I barely knew, away from a shop containing scary people was quite the experience. The wind clawed through my curls and I felt the exhilaration of fear and relief and thrill all combined in an intoxicating mixture. The landscape widens out until we reach Hogsmeade and then past the cutesy town into the familiar grounds of Hogwarts where we slow to a walk.

I suck in air through my teeth, still with my hand laced with his, climbing over past the gates and into one of the corridors. Thankfully, all the portraits are sleeping and we do not run into any patrolling prefects or teachers. He stays by my side until I reach the Slytherin entrance.

"You mustn't tell anyone." we say at each other at the same time. He smiles, I smirk. We don't say anything else to one another. I leave him to go his own way and I make it through the common room without irritating questions from my portraits ( _unlike some Houses, we at least had the dignity to keep our private matters, well, private)._ I open the dorm room door slowly, only then realising that my wand is still in the library where I'd dropped it before travelling. _Tomorrow's problem._ I ease my exhausted mind. I slip into my pyjamas and survey my friends. Olivia is gently snoozing while Diamond is sprawled out snoring rather loudly. I muffle a snicker at this. Bethany, however, has her blue eyes trained on me.

"Where have you been?" she asks me. _To lie or not to lie._

The book that had acted as my portkey comes in useful just then.

"Late-night reading." I reply, telling her a half-truth. She purposefully runs her sharp eyes across my wind-tousled hair tresses, rosy cheeks and dishevelled look. I let her come to her own conclusions, thankful that she doesn't seem to want to rat me out.

"Well, I sure hope your book was _fascinating."_ she drawls. She knows that I know that she doesn't believe me. Too tired to have some sort of conversation with Little Miss Judgement, I shrug.

"Whatever." I mutter.

I swear I see her lips quirk into a small smile. But then again, could've been just a trick of the light.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Wow wow wow! This chapter; I adore this chapter! Yes, yes, I know it's very biased of me to say that since I'm the author and all but still. It's long and dramatic and pieces together some of my loose ends. 'Kay, may I also be very happy to declare that year 1 has almost finished! Yay! I'm the sort of writer who writes when inspiration hits and when writers block hits; it is a little witch! However, I do have mock GCSE's in December (eek!) and real GCSE's at the end of the school year (blegh). I watched the BFG today (because my little bro begged me to) and I must say I quite enjoyed it. Anyway, I'm rambling (sorry!).**

 **This chapter in three words: self-realization, morons and brawl. Happy reading! :)**

"What label d'you think I'd get?"

I don't look up from my chapter; I've just got to the part where my protagonist is having her whole existential-crisis stroke epiphany phase and I'm way too emotionally invested to fully listen to Diamond. If I lived in the perfect world she'd immediately stop talking and allow me to finish my page, understanding that my rudeness was only due to my amazing fictional novel. Sadly, this is not what happens when you mix a curious Diamond with a bookworm.

Her hand swipes my book away from me in a swift and sudden movement.

"Hey!" I protest. Her dark eyes probe mine, a devilish smirk pulling up the corners of her mouth. She tantalises the book in front of me, dangling it just beyond reach. I glance around the Common room, satisfied that the Troublesome threesome aren't here to join in on the 'fun'. I sigh, flip my palm at her and lean back onto the warm green armchair.

"Don't be a tease." I say to her. Diamond tosses me a faux-haughty look, making me roll my eyes in exasperation. Olivia and Kat come join us, both avidly chattering away. Diamond chucks the book back at me and I mutter a quick 'Wingardium Leviosa' with my recently returned wand to keep my book from falling to an untimely death. Kat skips over and smushes herself onto my chair. I glower at her, internally groaning at the fact that now there was no chance I was gonna get away with reading until class. Her striking blue eyes twinkle, oddly reminding me of Professor Dumbledore, his beaming smile and twinkling eyes flowing in his portrait.

"Good morning." she practically sings. I huff, a soft exhalation of impatience and tiredness.

"Is it _really_ a good morning though? I mean it's not even bloody seven o'clock yet! Breakfast isn't until half an hour and I was torn away from a _really freaking good book."_

Kat's tries stifling her laugh; it fails. It spills out from behind her hand in an amused little giggle. "Ah… So it's one of _those_ mornings." she replies. I open my mouth to ask what she means but am cut off by Diamond who repeats what she'd said earlier when I was (kinda) ignoring her.

"What label d'you think I'd get?"

"What do you mean?" Olivia pipes up, smoothing down her magically straight skirt. I look down at my own uniform, noticing the ladders in my tights, the wrinkles in my skirt and the way that my green tie is slightly skewered despite my best efforts to keep it straight.

"I mean if we all had to label one another as adjectives, what would we all be?" I stop fussing with my tilted tie and think about this for a second. I remember the way my hand is always the first up in class and somehow try and put that besides the memory, from just over a week ago, of me running down knockturn alley hand in hand with Lysander past midnight. _Hmm, what would I be 'labelled'?_

Kat's smile dims and because I've come to pick up on some of her little quirks and expressions I instantly ask her what's wrong. I hold my hand out and she takes it, squeezing once in gratefulness. Her palm is cold against mine.

"I think I'd be labelled as the misfit." her voice is slightly shaky. My brow furrows in concern; I don't think I've ever heard or seen anything like this from Kat before- never before has she hinted that she feels out of place or misunderstood in any way. If anything, Kat is pretty much the epitome of confidence and badass witches. She's renown for her feistiness and her sweet tooth and the way she can hold down that blue-eyed stare. Subconsciously I tighten my hand around hers. Both Diamond and Olivia lean in closer, as stunned by her admission as myself.

"How an earth can you think that? You're like the best person I know at speaking to everyone. Charlotte and all that lot like you and you always seem to get what others mean without even trying." Kat sends me a smile, she takes a deep breath and tries to explain;

"It's not that I feel a misfit as in a loner. I mean, I do have you three as well as Nick and Charlie and Maisie. It's just… Sometimes, I-uh…" She trails off. The silence stretches for a beat and then two. After about a minute, which in reality feels like an eternity, Olivia flicks some imaginary lint off of her robes and Diamond fidgets.

"Alexithymia." Three blank gazes cast my way. "An inability to describe emotions in a verbal manner." I add, hastily. Kat snorts and relief soothes my jangled nerves.

"I don't have that. At least, not normally."

"Yeah, no kidding." Diamond chips in, "We all remember when you had an absolute slam-down with Higgs in the hallway." Smiles spread like wildfire.

"Why do you feel like a 'misfit' though?" I pester, ignoring Olivia's scrunched up nose.

"I don't feel the loner aspect, it's just… I suppose my short-temper kind of seems to give me a bit of a reputation." My brain whirs into overdrive.

"What's wrong with that?" I don't see the problem of her being known as the feisty girl, it didn't seem half as bad as the rumours of Scorpius being 'Voldemort's child' and me being the 'black sheep Weasley'. " _Everything is relative. Something bad for one person may not seem as bad to another."_ My mum's voice dredges up from one long-ago memory. I seem to recall tears in her eyes when she'd said this, her eyes red and her breath smelling of whiskey. I let go of the memory, locking it up, returning to the here and now.

"People seem intimidated of my 'explosive temper'. 'Specially since that last show-down with Crabbe, Goyle and Higgs. My bat bogey hex sent Goyle into hysterics." The ghost of a smile crosses her features. This time it's me who can't suppress my laughter. Olivia smiles demurely.

"That was genius!" Diamond tries arguing, dark eyes glinting in mirth. I pick out something that stuck out to me over the whole bat-bogey reference.

"Which people are intimidated?" I query. Diamond rolls her eyes in the background but my gaze is locked on Kat. She seems a little shifty if I'm reading her right. _Damn it. If only humans were as easy as books…_

"The whole of our year has heard of it-" she tries saying.

"That's not my question and you know it. Us three weren't intimidated-" I wave a hand at my little band of girl friends. "Nor was Nick or Charlotte. Maisie, I doubt would care. She is sweet but with a sister as foul-mouthed as Sophie-" " _You know how lowly she thinks of Hufflepuffs. Not only that but you've befriended_ _ **blood-traitors**_ _." rings through my mind._ I nod, steeling my voice at the memory. "- yep, having Sophie as a sister would definitely take away the intimidation element of your temper. So when you refer to 'people' you are only meaning someone who you care about. I know you Kat, you don't give a damn what anyone thinks unless it's someone who means something to you. So spill."

Diamond's eyes stop rolling and Olivia seems surprised at my deduction. Kat's tone is respectful, perhaps even a little bit wonder-struck, when she comments: "You're too smart for your own good, you know. One day that busy brain of yours will land you into something you can't smartass your way out of." I grin at her, nudging her shoulder; "I know. I also know that you're trying to change the subject. Spill." Thankfully she does as I ask and confides in us. Diamond and Olivia inch closer so we're not overheard and in conspiratorial whispers Kat tells us of how she has a bit of a crush on Liam Finnigan, who in my mind is known as _the cocky Finnigan who hangs around with Se-bastard._ She gushes about him talking to her the other day in the library and how he'd told her that she was 'kinda cool' but 'hard to find'.

"Why did he need to find you?" Olivia voices aloud my question, her eyes both earnest and wistful. I remember the look on Nick's face when he'd told us of how he'd completed Jasmine Patil's treasure hunt on Valentine's day and that the 'treasure' had been a kiss from her. His bubbly attitude had completely overlooked the sad glint in Olivia's eye and how she'd had to excuse herself for no apparent reason. When me and Diamond had followed her up, we'd tried levitating over a box of tissues and I'd sent Diamond to nip back down to sneak some chocolate from the kitchens. Taking in Olivia's question, I try assessing how she's dealing. Diamond jumps me to the bullet however and hugs Olivia in an inconspicuous way so Kat doesn't notice. The effort wasn't needed; Kat's focused enough on her story I don't think she'd notice if a cornish pixie flew past!

"He said he'd wanted to find me to inquire about a potion." she waves her hand dismissively, "it doesn't really matter the reason he'd sought me out. What matters is that he actually went to me! I'm not even in his class!" Kat's excitement is drowned out by the voices from my memory...

 _he and Professor McGonagall continue their conversation._

 _"-I'm sure of it, ma'am. Someone is definitely pilfering items from the greenhouses."_

 _"And you're sure it is not the students?" Minerva responds, elegantly striding next to the boy she'd once taught and keeping a firm expression on her face._

 _"There would be no point," Neville Longbottom answers, "The herbs and vegetation that have been taken are only useful when casting dark spells, which no student at Hogwarts has access to. At least not without access to books in the restriction section."_

"What potion was he asking you about?" I question. My tone is sharp, drawing confused looks from the others; I _know_ that it's odd for me to ask this when my best friend has just admitted she likes this boy and that he may like her back but I can't help the feeling that something isn't quite adding up. The early morning start seems to be pulling together fragments of my experiences over the school year and my mind keeps chiding me that I'm missing something. Something is off. Something beyond my encounters with the mean girls and dealings with the moronic three (Crabbe, Goyle and Higgs).

"He didn't say." Kat informs, a little defiantly. I squint my eyes in suspicion.

"He came to find you to ask about a potion but then didn't say what potion it was?" I try and fail to sound as suspicious as I look. Diamond shoots me a classic 'what are you talking about look'. I try ignore it. Kat's face flushes. I can tell she's unhappy with me for being so persnickety. She twirls a lock of her hair in agitation.

"He came and asked me where I could find some ingredients- Boomslang skin and fluxweed- because he said he needed it for some potion in class." _Boomslang skin? What's that? And Fluxweed… I'm sure I've heard of that before..._ I make a mind-memo to research it later, I have a sneaking suspicion that it could tie in with the conversation I'd overheard about someone stealing school supplies. But for now I'm currently being bombarded with three irritated stares ranging between mildly concerned (Olivia) to pissed off (Kat).

"Sorry," I try assuming a sheepish look by smiling slightly and lowering my gaze. "I was just curious because if he's getting extra credit in potions class, he could take my place on the scoreboard." Kat rolls her eyes, Diamond scoffs and Olivia giggles. With much relief, I have one of those classic 'lightbulb moments' and come up with the perfect labels for my friends. It is a double whammy for me as it both veers from the conversation of Liam-the-possible-thief and also answers Diamond's earlier question.

"I've got them! The labels you were searching for. You're the skeptic," I tell Diamond with an affectionate smile- "You're mean but soft under all the prickles. You're smart but you don't really seem to want to try. You're a daddy's girl." Zabini tilts her head, neither confirming nor denying my presumption. I point a finger at Olivia- "You're the sweet one. You have a big heart and a bigger smile. You giggle a lot, have _just_ enough perfectionist traits to make you a Slytherin and not a Hufflepuff, and you sometimes slip into Italian when you're really sad or happy." Olivia predictably beams at her label. I turn to Kat, matching cobalt with hazel. "And you…"

"Me?" she prompts, arching a 'brow.

"To quote what Halsey once said about herself: you're a fucking hurricane. You're intense and a mixture of breath-taking and explosive and spontaneous and crazy." She grins at me, I grin right back at her. She understands what I mean.

"What about you, Rose? What are you?" Olivia wonders aloud. Esmeralda strides in, flooding our group and telling us that it's time for breakfast. I let the question hang, rushing among the morning stream of people to travel down to the Great Hall, towards my porridge and pumpkin juice (I was currently taking Nick's advice and easing off the caffeine).

My mind keeps clamouring at my though, I'm not sure what exactly it is that I'm missing but I know two things for definite; 1) That it's important and 2) That it's right in front of me. I dim out against the coiling multides and will myself to focus. _Think, Rose. Think!_ The conversation between Professor McGonagall and Professor Longbottom about how ingredients were disappearing from the greenhouses match up with the scene I'd witnessed in Borgin and Burke's, when that foul man had demanded that he needed more of something and that the teachers were sure to find out if he kept using the ones up at school. _But where does Liam tie into all this? Are his potions ingredients linked to the two memories?_

A tap on my shoulder jolts me from my internal dialogue. Grey eyes, black hair and small smile. I mumble a 'good morning' to Keiran, not quite present enough to muster up anything more. I follow him over to the table where I sandwich myself between him and Nick. Almost immediately I start fixing Nick a tall goblet of juice and some jammy toast while he does he same.

"It's kinda freaky, you know." Diamond's voice quips, she waves a hand between the two of us.

"What is?" I question sliding him his plate while he does the same with my dish.

"How y'all have fallen into the pattern of making each other's breakfasts." I accept the porridge, and share a wry smile with my chocolate-eyed friend. Turning back to Diamond, I shrug; "I don't usually notice that I'm doing it."

"But why did you start doing it-" she cuts a glance at Nick, warning him with a glance that if he opens up his textbook in front of her, she'll rip out the pages. Slowly, he closes the book, placing it back in his bag with reluctance. He looks at me for a second, then looks away.

"I guess I started it when I started giving her pumpkin juice instead of coffee."

"Coffee is the nectar of the Gods." I protest, nudging Nick in false scorn. He ignores me.

"And then she started making mine after that time I forgot to eat." He smiles at the memory. It was a funny memory, actually, although it wasn't at the time. I remember the way I ranted on about how eating breakfast kick-started metabolism in the body and reduced fatigue by a statistical amount. He'd just hovered there, torn between edging out of the Hall and sitting the flip down and stuffing his mouth full of toast, despite lessons starting. Unfortunately, he didn't get to do either because I'd spelled an apple to be stuffed in his mouth and dragged him by his robes out of the Great Hall, oblivious to the odd stares we'd received.

Marissa appears in my peripheral vision and strolls languidly towards her brother. Her crimson lips smirk as she speaks, too low for me to catch what she's saying. Keiran waits stone-faced until she exits the Hall. Only then does he tug on my arm, leaning towards me and whispering.

"Rose, there's something you need to see." I swallow my food and furrow my brow.

"Can it wait?" I ask, thinking back on my History of Magic essay I needed to complete by this Friday and the puzzling memories that still didn't add up. Keiran's voice is grim, his eyes serious.

"No."

Sensing the urgency, I stand up, waving a goodbye to the table and following him out of the Great Hall and through the winding corridors to the East Wing courtyard. There I notice what I hadn't before, Krum leaning over Albus who's hunched over onto the ground. Blood gushes down from Albus's nose, his glasses lie broken on the ground next to him and his shaggy mop of hair is encrusted with dirt and what-looks-to-be slime. His arms have purple splodges where his shirt sleeves have torn. The sight, brutal and harsh under the cold light of the sun turns my stomach and makes me break out into a dead sprint. My anger flares up, my nightmare of seeing Albus broken and bloody repainted in bright colours before me. I rush towards the two, Krum's head turning up too late, as I shove him forcefully away. He stumbles back a few steps, those damnable bushy eyebrows shooting up in surprise, "Rose!" he exclaims. I stalk, closer to him, too angry to speak. Feeling like one mystery had been solved but too late… Too late.

I curl my fingers into my palm, enclose my thumb over them, making a fist as James had taught me to. _Drop your stance Rose. That way, when you swing with your fist the motion is propelled from your hips, giving more weight to the punch._ CRACK! My punch lands with a definite blow to Krum's square-ish chin. The jaw dislocates and he staggers backwards, raising his arms in the universal 'Calm down' gesture. His words are incoherent, strung together in a desperate rush and not doing a damn thing to help cool down the flame burning inside me. Some sort of primal instinct has me seeking more pain from the Krum heir. I want him to hurt just as badly as my cousin was hurt. I want him to flinch like Albus had done, every time someone touched his arms. I want him to wince whenever someone calls his name, dreading the outcome of those words. I want him to _feel_ the pain of having tormented nights, distrust blooming, feeling isolated and alone and in pain. I want it… Because I know now that I've been ignorant of the signs. Dom had warned me that Al may've been getting bullied. She told me that it could be a result of him not fitting in. Yet, instead of finding a way to coax him through his school life, I'd been so fucking absorbed by my own problems and my own life that I'd swallowed his bullshit about 'adjusting to school life' and not looked any further, despite my subconscious urging me to. This all had amounted to this explosion of anger and guilt and shame, which I was taking out on Krum, his tormentor.

"Rose, no!" Albus shouts. My fist is already mid-way onwards Krum's stomach. However, he's taller and brawnier than me and he stops it before it lands. His eyes, flinty and wide, plead with mine to stop and listen to my cousin. I jerk my arm back and snap my mouth at Krum, sending him an implicit warning. Albus stumbles up from the ground, waving his arms to keep my eyes on his, rushing out an explanation; "Stop, Rose! It's not Krum who hit me, it's not his fault." I scoff at this: "Oh yeah? Then who was it?" Albus' hand encircles my wrist, he yanks me away from Sebastian, who's cradling his busted up jaw. His green eyes pierce mine- so full of an ocean of sadness and shame. I lower my voice, retracting my burning fury to a cooler, more empathetic tone.

"Who hit you Albus? You know you can tell me anything. We're family." It's just the three of us in the courtyard; Keiran has mysteriously disappeared. _Perhaps he has an aversion to violence._

His melancholy gaze is hidden behind long, dark eyelashes. He licks his cracked lips, pinches his bloody nose, staunching the flow.

"I'm sorry Rose. I should've told you earlier, I was just… Scared. Not that you'd be bullied, hell no one would dare bully you, cousin. But that you'd tell James or someone who'd tell my parents. I thought I could handle it myself. Y'know? Each time, before every encounter, I'd say 'I'll tell them to stop. I'll prove to myself that I'm as strong and brave as Dad was, when he was at school.' But…" his strained voice trails off. Krum inches forwards and when I look up to him, I see what I hadn't earlier: concern for Albus.

"But?" I'm almost too scared to pick up the conversations, apprehensive of where it was leading.

"But I'm a coward," he sighs, "The reason that I was so horrible to you and your House is because I envied the way you could deal with the rumours and the meanness and the jinxes. I should have never been put into Gryffindor," he hangs his head, seeing assurance from the inanimate leather on his shoes. "I can never become half of the person my father was. And still is." I draw my wand, with a twirl I clean up the blood and fix his glasses. I crouch down, feeling the thin-wire for a moment of contemplation, knowing full well how hard it was to live in the shadow of your parents and their achievements. Always being compared to what they achieved and how they strived and the legacy too full and amazing to even contend with.

I look at Krum, still holding the repaired glasses, taking in his crooked jaw and darkened eyes.

"If you weren't the perpetrator," I drawl, elongating the words in thought, "-then why are you here?" _Without his lackeys as well,_ I add in my mind. Sebastian shuffles his feet but keeps his lips tightly sealed. For a boy who never seems to know when to shut up, he doesn't seem to be able to make a sound right now. I wonder if it's because of my punch. I remember my Dad telling me the tale of when mum had hit Draco Malfoy and his remark on how 'it scared the ferret shitless'. _Is he scared of me now? Is that why he refuses to talk?_ Albus, with his timid voice, intervenes: "He witnessed the fight and he ran out to help me. He scared them off by threatening to tell McGonagall- they freaked, Krum was helping me when you arrived." _Oh._ I walk towards Krum, he steps back as I step forwards so hold my hands up in the gesture he'd done earlier. He hesitates; "I won't hurt you." I promise. He stills, eyes squinted in suspicion but trusting me enough to not move away.

As though he is a Hippogriff, I approach slowly and respectfully, trying to keep him from running or fighting. When I'm only a couple of feet away, I raise my wand and murmur a healing charm. The crack as the jaw relocates is like the snap of a whip. He winces while I flinch at the sound. Following my impulse I trace my fingers across his jaw, mouthing 'sorry' and then 'thank you'. His jaw is strong and firm beneath my touch and I shiver. He notices and his eyes seem to darken even more, their intensity too much for me to handle, so I step back and mentally draw up my shiver to the slight breeze in the air. Mentally chiding myself for being so close to the Krum boy I blush a dark red and step hurriedly away. Albus' is wearing his 'I saw that' look and I send him a scowl. When I turn back to glance at Krum, he's spun on his heel and is striding out of the courtyard. My breath is shaky when I exhale.

The bell rings for class and the moment is broken, the illusion shattered; it's time to go back to reality. And the reality is that my cousin was being bullied and now has nasty bruises, ripped clothes and a broken nose. He quickly hides his battered body under his crumpled robe and makes for the door, leading back into a school hallway.

"Where do you think you're going?" I say, jogging to catch up with him, hooking my arm around his. "To class," he replies, sending me a 'duh' look. I frown at him, forcibly making him stop.

"No, you're not. _You_ are going straight to Madam Pomfrey _right now_ or else I'll be writing a letter myself to Auntie Ginny and Uncle Harry, is that understood?" His face morphs into the picture of that famous painting: Scream.

"No! Rosie, please. You can't do that-"

"-yes I can."

"-they'll get the teachers involved and it'll be a nightmare-

"-Albus-"

"-it'll be so humiliating-"

"-Al-"

"-the whole school will find out and I'll be known as-"

"ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER!" I shout. Students faces whip towards me, whispers arise and eyes cut side-glances. I don't give a damn. I frog-march Albus straight to the infirmary, rambling on about the importance of medical care and how if he's not seen to this exact minute I will make on my promise and tell his parents. Once we arrive, I throw open the doors, and inform him in hushed tones that no- I will not tell his parents although by Merlin's name I _will_ hunt down the bastards who did this to him and make them stop _or else._ Not once does Albus tell me their names but I already know. I remember too vividly that time in the hallway when he pulled Mr Invisible onto me and I had a hexing match with the offenders in question. Madam Pomfrey scurries over, her heart-face frowning and worried.

"Oh, my poor dear, what happened?"

"Albus here bumped into a wooden beam and bust his nose, then took a rather nasty tumble down the stairs." I lie smoothly and effectively. The matron, who I'd met before when I'd suffered that migraine months ago, looks rather disbelievingly at the older bruises.

"And where was this beam from? Here at Hogwarts I have not heard of a student being harmed from a wayward plank before." She doesn't believe me, I can hear it in her tone. I ramp up the innocent factor, feeling only a tad guilty when I shift the blame.

"Peeves was carrying the wood." I add. The matron loses her suspicion, Peeves is renown for rather random and mischievous acts- how should this one be any different? I leave Albus into Madam Pomfrey's capable hands and stalk off to deal with his bullies. I'm late but I do not hurry. I know with detached acceptance that by the time the class end I'll be in much more trouble than tardiness.

The hallways are practically empty, there are only the odd few upper year students milling about during their free period. The portraits watch with curious eyes as I meander by, clutching my satchel strap, jaw clenched and fists ready. I'd misjudged Krum, that was for sure. I'd made him out as some big bad villain when in reality he was just a rich boy living under a similar shadow to me and Albus, protecting his human heart with prickly arrogance. I recall his rose for me on Valentines, the mocking poem might've been just for show, him conforming to the label he'd been placed under. I'm a ball of energy; raw emotions. I'm furious and guilty and upset and sympathetic and confused and scared. My hands are shaky from where they clutch my bag and despite my rage, I feel ice cold. _Is this what it means to be a Slytherin?_ I question myself, _Learning to observe people and emotions and the harsh reality in the weak light of the sun?_

Without realising it, I've made my way to the bottom of the stairway, I'm at the entrance of the Potions dungeons. I take a deep breath, taking a moment to compose myself and reign in the nervous fluttering at the bottom of my tummy. Shaky fingers tracing the intricacies of the wood grain, the way some parts are chipped off due to old age and the swirls and dots which mark having seen generations of children before. I watch the door with trepidation, it watches me with blank eyes. It's eyeless yet all-seeing. _You're hesitating._ My mind reminds me. I set back my shoulders, shoulder open the door and walk in…

My peers, emerald and crimson, are working alongside one another, deep into their practical. The professor is absent from his desk but I'm much too preoccupied to give it much consideration; if anything, it helps with what I'm about to do. I spot one of the three, then the other two appear- my luck is adding up when they sidle up to him and start chattering away about how they snuck out of lesson under the pretense of library work. _Bullshit, as if any of them is smart enough to read!_ Keiran spots me first, he always does seem to be the one who notices things first, and his grey eyes see right through me. I turn from him and storm my way up to Crabbe, Goyle and Higgs. Without any pretense, I whip out my wand and mutter under my breath a complex spell which causes tiny papercuts form wherever the wand is pointing. Crabbe's bulbous eyes bulge and his words cut off into a howl of pain. I trace my wand surreptitiously across both his arms, knowing that my time is limited now that one has been hurt.

"Expelliarmus." I speak in a moderate-volume tone. Higgs gets launched backwards his wand flying into my grasp. Jasmine and a few Gryffindorks stop what they're doing noticing the duel at this side of the classroom. Goyle shouts a hex, I shield it and dodge to make sure I don't get harmed. I roll out of the dive, knocking over someone's cauldron and spilling some of the 'see clearly' brew inside. The lilac liquid trickles idly over the floor, oblivious to my red-hazed anger. Someone screams and the classroom erupt into chaotic yelling and shoving as people rush from the room.

"Petrificus totalus." I curse. Goyle's whole body freezes up and drops like a dead weight. Crabbe hits me with a Rictumsempra, the tickling charm and I countercurse it so the charm is neutralised.

"STUPIFY!" I scream, hitting Higgs and knocking him unconscious. _Two down, one to go._ Crabbe looks despairingly down at his fallen friends and tries to run away like the coward he is. I remember the sadness and shame of Albus when he confessed that he'd felt like a coward. Olivia and Diamond are crying for me to stop, yelling and hollering about expulsion and how they're not worth it. I'm deaf to their cries. Keiran and Krum are trapped between the student body, though their struggling their way over to me. I stalk towards Crabbe like a predator seeking prey. My eyes are ablaze my voice is a hiss. I don't notice the professor's return.

"You motherfucking coward!" I spit behind clenched teeth. I grab his robes, punch him in the stomach, stealing his breath. "You fucking thought you could screw with _my cousin_ and get away with it!" I chuck him onto the ground, him scuffling as far as his plump legs can get him. I tower over him, a dark force that cannot be sheathed. I kick him as if I'm striking a ball, fracturing his ribs, making him howl. I smirk at the sound, feeling justice for my cousin. I lunge, landing onto those fractured ribs and raining down blows onto him as he covers his face.

"I- I didn't… Mean… To." he sputters through desperate pants. The sight of his sweaty, spotty face disgusts me. I wrap my small hands around his thick neck. Between each word, I thump his head against the marble floor.

"Lie… To… Me… Again... I… DARE… You." His eyes flutter, his hands scrabble at his throat, trying to stop me. Arms wrap around my waist, firmly wrenching me off of him against a very solid chest. I wiggle and squirm and claw and kick, wreaking havoc to the already chaotic scene.

"Let me go!" I growl.

"Not a chance." says the boy with the French accent. His voice is low but commanding. "Rose, you're cousin wouldn't want this." he looks at the fallen three. I stop fighting him and my eyes fill with tears. I turn in his circle of warmth so that I can meet his silvery eyes with my glistening hazel ones. "They hurt him." I inform him, "My family, my responsibility, yet I let him get hurt." His hand tuck a lock of my red hair behind one ear. "You did not let him, Rose. It is not your fault." I do not believe him, he knows this as sure as he knows that the sun will rise again tomorrow. He strokes my hair once, then releases me. Holding me close, just in case.

Professor Van Der Birg assesses the scene laid out before him. All the other students had fled except Diamond and Olivia who were sobbing next to a wild-eyed Nick, close to Keiran who'd crouched over Higgs and Krum who was hesitating, unsure what he could do in a situation like this. The lilac potion was spattered across the polished floors and reeked of chamomile and menthol. Stools had been upturned, potion bottles smashed and dribbling chemicals around the room. His intelligent eyes are sharp and beady over his spectacles. He scratches his goatee in a familiar way. His expression is inscrutable.

"Miss Weasley. You have surprised me. I did not think a Weasley could ever have acted as… Savagely, as you have just shown. Your uncanny resemblance to someone who would be quite intrigued to know of this little episode is consequential to me not informing the Headmistress of this particular mishap. You, with Scorpius here, will serve detention until the end of the year because despite my goodwill, your actions have to be punished. Noone here will speak of this to anyone else, is that understood?" My jaw drops. I'd been sure I was to suffer isolation or, Merlin save me, expulsion! And yet here Sir was telling us that I'd only have to serve detention all because of… A resemblance to someone he knew? It was ludicrous! Absolutely, undoubtedly, utterly astonishing! However, whatever the reasons for me easy punishment were, I wouldn't dare to question it.

"Is that understood?" he repeats to our blank, gaping faces. We nod, mumble affirmatives.

"But sir?" Diamond pipes up, clearing her throat nervously under his gaze, "What about the other pupils? They saw most of what happened as well." His eyes turn darkly bright.

"Do not worry yourself, I will deal with them." He sniffs haughtily then strolls out of the classroom, telling us to make a start on clearing up and 'get those dead weights to the infirmary'. The others make to come talk to me. In quick whispers I meet Scorpius's gaze and joke: "Looks like you seem to be becoming my knight in shining armour. Will you always be there to save me?" A tear slips from my eye. I'm exhausted and dry humour is weirdly not helping the situation. He catches my tear of his finger. His voice is low and surprisingly solemn.

"Let's hope so."


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: I am terribly sorry for the delay! Exams, Christmas and life kind of got in the way- eek! Anyway, thanks for all you readers (I need to update all of year 1 so I can start editing the chapters I've done so far). This chapter introduces one of my favourite characters of the Harry Potter Series :) I hope you enjoy...**

The day of my first ever detention hangs like a dark cloud over me, sending some invisible warning to everyone within a five metre radius to leave me the hell alone. All day this malevolent cloud blackens my mind, repelling my peers while I observe plasticky plant leaves and scribble down potion notes. My hair has come loose from its hasty bun and sparks around my face, matching with my whole 'crazy look' that I'd inadvertently ended up with. Diamond had coerced Olivia into leaving me alone, probably figuring it was best for their health if I stayed half a classroom away from them; but it only succeeded in making me feel more isolated and miserable. Nick had been mysteriously absent all morning and when lunchtime rolls around, I stomp off from my gossiping peers, keeping my nose high in the air in contempt against their bitching. Nearly the entire of my Slytherin-Gryffindor class had seen the fight break out between me vs Crabbe, Goyle and Higgs and rumours were spreading like fiend-fyre.

" _I heard that she tried to stomp on Crabbe's head!"_

" _Her friend- the feisty Ravenclaw one- had a thing with Higgs, didn't she? Maybe she was jealous?"_

" _Polly told me that she'd completely snapped- apparently she's a complete nutter- I wonder how she even got into Hogwarts..?"_

The stories fluctuated between mildly irritating half-truths to astonishingly outrageous tales passed from mouth to mouth. The weirdest one was that I was pregnant with Goyle's lovechild and had cheated on Kat's 'boyfriend' Higgs, causing a stir between the triplet of friends. _Seriously!?_ I'd laughed out loud when I'd heard this one, coming out of a bathroom cubicle to smirk into the gaping faces of some Hufflepuff girls while washing my hands, commenting slyly that "I'd rather be impregnated with a goblin than Goyle."

Deep in thought, I run into someone as I'm trekking up over the grassy lands surrounding the beatific castle, right smack-bam into the sole person I _didn't_ expect to run into today. Her hair flows over her shoulders and back in a waterfall of loose blonde waves and her silvery-blue-grey eyes match her kind smile. She wears a sunshine yellow dress with neon green crocks on. I wonder what she was thinking about choosing those types of muggle shoes, but then again she's always been rather eccentric.

"Good afternoon, Luna." I greet the witch. Luna Lovegood, mother of Lysander and Lorcan Scamander, beams at me as though she'd only just now noticed my presence.

"Hello, Rose. You seem distressed, would you like to accompany me for a short time?" I'm struck by how intuitive she is and I nod my head, deciding that the fresh air would be better than the crowded Great Hall full of fearful or spiteful faces. I follow her as she leads me over the grassy hills, past the greenhouses and into a little copse of trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She walks with a careless elegance about her, not with the elegance my Auntie Fleur holds with her Veela airs and blue-blooded graces, but with the casual gracefulness of a light-footed woman with a breezy attitude towards all things.

My arms prickle with goosebumps as a soft breeze ripples over us both and I begin to wish for the cloak I'd left in my dorm. The seconds tick by at a languid pace and I settle into thinking that she is not going to speak to me during our walk. We do not hurry and the wet squelching of our feet treading through the dewy land reminds me of my talk with Dominique over the Christmas break. " _If only people saw what you and me see."_ Dominique's words echo through me, reminiscent of her presence. _But what do I see? I can't see the future like Lysander nor can I change the past. Hell, I can't even see through my anger enough to reign in the temper that's gotten me into so much trouble already!_ My internal dialogue is interrupted by a sigh from Luna.

I look around, noticing we've meandered past the entrance of the forest and are gazing down into a naturally made formation of mushrooms in a well-hidden clearing. I remember from my mother that these are called 'Fairy circles' by Muggles who have been more wary of the magical community. Though the ring of vegetation does not really veil a passageway between the magical world and the Muggle one, it does hold power in itself. A natural power, like a bonding ritual would, sealing the interlinking bonds that exist between different beings for many different reasons. I mentally list off some of the ones I'd read about during History Of Magic; marital, pack, familial and the enslavery bond which existed between a House elf and a witch or wizard. I frown at the thought of the servitude, my mother's disliking towards the long-held tradition having rubbed off on me.

"Magic is beautiful is it not?" Luna's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I follow her direct line of vision, to the different colours and textures surrounding us. The bluebells pushing up from the dead debri across the grounds, the plush grass as the springtime descends upon mother nature. A mouse twitches its whiskers as it scuttles through the underbrush. Birds tweeting, chirping merrily and cooing against their family, their feathers a myriad of the spectrum. A goldfinch plumes its feathers, puffing up its chest and tilting head from side to side as it grooms itself. I tune into the woodland squirrel as it flies from branch to branch, long limbs stretching as it experiences its very own version of weightlessness. Of freedom.

I turn back to Luna her silver-speckled eyes watching me intently.

"Magic is beautiful but so is nature." I reply, hoping I do not upset the tranquil witch. Her smile is wry, and when it is combined with her gentle gaze, it acts as a soft balm to the lingering dark cloud that had been following me.

"They are one and the same though. Can't you see it?" I glance around, thinking that I'm missing something. She shakes her head at me, her long tresses stirring; "No, no. It is not the kind of thing that you see with your eyes. You must feel it. It exists in the subtleties, the wavering of wings out of the corner of your eyes, the bumblebee buzz of nargles when they are attracted towards you, the crackling of electricity when your emotions grow strong…" I try to imagine the things that she is saying, trying to find that viewpoint in which everything is connected, like convoluted roots beneath the earth, entwining one life to another. I look at the miraculously made circle of mushrooms and toadstools, of their significance to magical bonds. I clench my hands trying to connect the pieces with a furrowed brow and feeling of intense consternation. But I can't.

Luna taps my cheek lightly with her hand, sitting down cross-legged into the circle and gesturing for me to do the same. I do as she asks, only hesitating when I worry about the state of my already rumpled skirt, before abandoning such sensibilities to entertain the free-spirited witch. She offers me a soft smile before tracing her finger wistfully over the cherry-red top of a half-buried toadstool. She speaks purposefully, not rushed but with a practiced quality which comes across as wise and meaningful: "Hogwarts has always been as much my home as the rook-shaped house my father and I lived in as I was growing up. It is a place that holds history, a history that you among many of your family members, know a great deal about. History is very important, Rose. Do you know why?"

"Because those who do not learnt from past mistakes are bound to repeat them." I paraphrase using the Muggle philosopher George Santayana and referencing the phrase he'd famously said. Luna nods her head, "It is true. And although we try to prevent the bad things from happening, suffering can never be fully stopped. Though history textbooks-" she waves vaguely at the satchel on the ground a few metres beside us "-warn us again and again about the dangers of elitism and greed, history has a habit of repeating itself… Much like a circle." I glance down at the ring, us being in the centre of it and a shiver dances across my spine. I furrow my eyebrows; "Are you saying that we'll have another War? Have you seen a vision about bad things in the future?" Luna holds my gaze for almost a full minute, her eyes contemplative and intense. It reminds me of how Lysander looks at me: like I am some strange object that he can't quite figure out yet but is still fascinated by.

"Life is a circle, much like time itself. Think of a Phoenix, how it is born out of fire and ash to sing its song of hope and goodness, crying tears to heal the broken or wounded. But alas, it then grows weary of life and dies in the hot flame to dissemble before being reborn again." Her cryptic words threaten to trigger me into shaking the woman and demanding a clear-cut explanation. _I don't want to know about a bloody Phoenix, I just want to know whether or not my family are in danger of an upcoming war!_ I think about the papers; the recent muggle disappearances, the subtle rise in crime rates across Great Britain, the aggression and House rivalry that has maintained throughout the decades. Her silvery-blue-grey orbs twinkle in the afternoon glow. A question occurs to me and though it does not coincide with our conversation, it is too curious for me to ignore.

"Why did you come to Hogwarts, Luna? Why did you leave your editorial job to travel here?" Immediately after I've asked I want to retract the words. They sound abrasive and sharp against the hush of the forest. I know that these trees are far from safe; there are a multitude of magical creatures lurking from their habitats, waiting patiently for night to descend. But for the moment- I feel safe. The lulling of a nearby river and Luna's calming aura make me guilty for questioning her motives and invading onto her personal business. However, she does not take offense to my blunt words and tells me that she was visiting Lysander as he'd been struggling with his vision recently. I widen my eyes at this and she laughs. Her tinkling laughter is joyful and carefree in the open air.

"Don't worry," she says, "I knew that you'd be the one to figure out my son's secret."

Shortly afterwards, she stands back up, holding out a hand to help me up. I take it and we travel back to the castle, both deeply lost in our thoughts. I wonder how much she knows; about the future, about mine and Lysander's late-night adventure down the winding cobblestone streets of Knockturn Alley and about the anger I struggled to control. Ever since I'd had my 'little outburst' during potions, I'd been on edge, agitated by having not heard from my parents (though Professor Van Der Birg had said that he had notified them) as well as feeling outcasted by my peers as someone I was not. Something that I was not. They looked at me with fear, disgust and the apathetic curiosity that a vulture would before devouring its prey. I was a freak, and entertainment to them, the fiery 'black-sheep weasley' who couldn't keep her wand, nor her fists, to herself. This agitation had built into what I had been before bumping into Luna- a spring coiled tight with barely suppressed emotions roiling inside. In primary school I'd never been ostracised for being different. Sure, I was a witch, but no one but my closest companions, Alice and Hugo, knew about that and regardless of my quirks they'd accepted me into the muggle society. I'd chewed on my pencil as I'd learned my times tables and laughed at corny knock-knock jokes. I felt a pang of loss for the way that Alice would be at my side no matter what and was always next to me with a hug or a tough-love speech when I started to veer too much from my normal self. The nostalgia for Mrs Evans tendency to use hand-gestures as she was rambling about the way in which Art has developed over time and the sticky cutting and gluing we did to stick in diagrams in our class books almost overwhelms me. It was quite different, the transition between muggle primary school and Hogwarts. Paper to parchment, pencil to quill, muggle science to practising magic.

We arrive outside Hagrid's hut and Luna pauses. "Detention will be alright. Your friends will be there for you always, do not forget that." I don't ask her how she know this, nor do I question her judgement. "Goodbye Rose, it was wonderful to speak to you today." she proffers up a lovely smile which lights up the whole of her face. I smile back. "And you as well. Bye." I continue leaving, giving her a wave which she reciprocates before decisively knocking on Hagrid's front door. I carry up towards the castle, using the clock under the bell tower to determine how much of lunch is still remaining. _Only fifteen minutes left._

I hurry to the lunch hall, hoping that I can gulp down a sandwich and some pumpkin juice before the next period begins. Ignoring the looks I'm getting for my hastiness, I scurry through the doors to the Hall and make my way straight for my table. Partway there I am blocked off. Kat stands in front of me wide-eyed and firm. I stop in my movements, shooting her a 'what?' look. "Do not go over there." she cautions. Which, with me being a stubborn witch with a knack for finding trouble only piques my interest more. "Why?" she shoves a chicken sandwich at me and attempts to usher my back towards the doors. I dig my heels in, suppressing the urge to smirk when she glares at me.

"Because-" she casts a quick glance over her shoulder. I take a bite of the sandwich before following her gaze. The chewed up piece of food swiftly loses all taste and turns to sawdust in my suddenly dry mouth. Jasmine Patil, the snotty Gryffindor who called me a 'deranged ginger' to her gaggle of girlfriends earlier during potions is snuggling into Nick's arm, batting her mascara-gooped eyelashes with a move blatantly learnt off of Victoire (A.k.A the cousin who acted like a complete vacuous bitch 99.9 percent of the time). My nose unconsciously crinkles in disgust and I can't help but ask (rather loudly): "What the fuck is Patil doing at my table?" Kat winces at my volume and I see Adelaide Jordan overhearing and sending me a sympathetic look. Randomly, Krum also appears to have heard as he seems to straighten up and lean forward to catch more of our conversation from the Gryffindor table in which he is supposed (and is) sat at. _Unlike some people, who are_ not meant to _be playing musical chairs._ I glare pointedly at the pretty Indian girl, irritated by her snuggling up to one of _my_ best friends.

Kat tries removing me from the Hall verbally once her physical attempt fails. "Look Rose it's almost time for next lesson. How about I walk you there and we can both talk about what happened on that Doctor Who finale from last night? Sound good?" I barely spare her a glance. I raise my volume a few notches and call out:

"Hey Patil! Do you need some help finding your seat? You seem to have gotten lost among the way." my tone is somewhat sweet, although there is a definite edge behind the words. I walk forwards, hardly hearing Kat's colourful language behind me, approaching the Gryffindor girl. She raises her head and drops her smile, a sneer tugging those cupid bow lips into something unpleasant to look at. Nick just looks unsettled. Torn between his crush and his best friend. When I reach them both, she wastes no time in sneering back: "I'm not lost. This-" she points at Nick's arm, "-is exactly where I'm meant to be." Nick's discomfort swells.

"Oh really?" I cock a sceptical eyebrow. "Because that's not what your tie colours say now, is it?" Her lips turn even further downwards and a spark of genius hits me. "In fact," I begin slowly, a callous smirk blooming on my lips. I tap them as though I'm trying to remember something, dragging out the intermezzo for effect. As I'd predicted, the entire side of the table hangs onto the edges of their seats in anticipation, all except Scorpius who is calmly buttering some toast as if unaffected by the verbal sparring match. I resume my speech- "I seem to distinctly remember the choice words which you called me and my house last lesson which might suggest that you really are a little _Confunded_ over where you are meant to be sitting." Jasmine almost immediately drops her superior sneer, obviously recalling that some of her words weren't exactly polite. A little rush of glee at her reaction widens my smirk.

"Hmm… I can recall you mentioning how Slytherins were all 'disgusting' and how 'dungeons were suitable places for evil wizards and witches.'" Vanessa and Sophie stop whispering and tune into my conversation with the Gryffindor girl. Eyes turn to Jasmine's shocked almond-coloured eyes and her currently invasive presence. Her lips fall open in a silent gasp, the colour draining from her face as she shifts her eyes across the mob of bitter eyes in green and silver lined robes tracking her every movement. I can tell what she's feeling, the same thing that I'd felt all morning: isolated, miserable, ganged up against. _Serves her right,_ the cruel side of me mutters _, She shouldn't sit with the people she talks shit about. Especially not with House rivalry so high at the moment._

"I said those things because of you- n-not the other S-slytherins." she tries to defend. Nick looks at her astonished that his Valentine sweetheart had betrayed him in such a way. Kat tugs on my robes, trying to stop my unfiltered mouth from ruining the girl. I can't help it: my frustration is at an all-high at the moment and channeling it into hurting the girl who'd tried to gossip about me made me feel like I was exacting justice onto the popular girl.

"Or what about my personal favourite," I drawl, "That the House of Salazar was just a cesspit for bigots, cowards and Death Eaters and that you'd 'rather die than become one of the snakes'." I use finger quotes and am amused by the look of horror that passes across the girl's face at my reiteration of her words from earlier. Nick disentangles his arm from around her shoulders and stands up, leaving the girl and me without a look to either one of us. Jasmine is left alone, surrounded by the snakes that she'd slagged off and I watch as the three beyatches and Marissa make mincemeat out of her (not literally, although the transfiguration charm was very possible). I leave Vanessa to it, trusting that her mean girl personality will deliver what I could not. I then allow myself to be dragged away by Kat to my next lesson, blowing out a relieved sigh that no teachers had witnessed the small conflict at the Slytherin table. Once we're out of the Great Hall Kat turns on me, eyes flaming.

"What the hell was that?" she exclaims. I grab the hem of her robe to keep us moving, not wanting to be late.

"What?" I shrug, nonchalantly. The black-haired witch narrows her eyes at me.

"What you just did to Jasmine! Why did you do that?" the condemnation in her tone grates on me, making my figurative hackles rise.

"She honestly did say all of that stuff earlier. All _I_ did was expose her gossip to my peers, kindly letting them know that we had a hypocritical _slimeball_ sat at our table." I shrug again, trying to push aside the guilt that was threatening to nudge at me, remembering the stricken look on her face when Nick had left. Then I remember the smug look she'd worn while she was cosying up to him and my guilt turns sour.

"I understand that, " she nods, "I also know that you and Nick are fairly close and that her sharing kisses with him has irritated you to no end." I frown at this.

"I'm not jealous," I point out, pressing the point when she looks dubious, "I don't think of Nick in… _That way._ I just feel really bad for Olivia who _should_ be the girl he desires and I'm also protective of my best friend."

"Hey!"

"Second best friend." I correct with a roll of my eyes.

"You can't choose who other people are attracted to," she reminds me with a knowing look in those perceptive blue eyes. I nod my head: _I know._ "Surely, you must also know that what you did back there went beyond petty meanness. Not only were you rude to her by insinuating she was dumb enough to not know where her own House table was; but you also threw her gossip back in her face, publically humiliating her, placing Nick into the position where he'd have to choose between you and her, which he did by leaving the table- ergo choosing you but not advocating your verbal onslaught of his maybe-girlfriend. And then you closed your argument off by exposing the worst of her statements while she was sat _three people down from Vanessa_ and leaving her, alone, to face the Slytherin wrath." _Okay, so maybe I was a little harsh on the girl._ Outwardly, I apologise for my contribution in her onslaught of Slytherin aggression and promise that I'll try leave her alone for the next month or so.

I end up making it on time to my next class and my day falls into the general routine of making notes, doing the odd practical and practising wand movements and intonation to provoke the magic thrumming in our blood. Nick ignores me, pissed over me acting like I did to Jasmine, while Olivia and Diamond continue with their 'avoid Rose until she's completely calm' mindset. I don't mind, I'm actually pretty calm after the revenge on Jasmine fiasco and it is only when bell rings out for the end of classes that I remember the reason I was put in such a foul mood to begin with today. The time had come for my detention.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Hey fellow readers! I'm gonna keep this little note short and sweet. Thanks for all of the views, *throws around cauldron cakes and pumpkin pastries like confetti* :) no spoilers for this chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

I rise from my last classroom slowly, seeming way too immersed in the bag and the feather quill that I've just been using, letting my classmates trail out before me to avoid being caught up in their steady stream. The tawny colour of the feather seems illuminated under the dappled sunlight filtering in through the gauzy curtains; earthy browns and amber patches giving off a golden glow. I feel a tapping on my shoulder and I turn, yet immediately wish that I hadn't. For a moment, a brief half second, I think that it's my mother's eyes frowning down at me, chocolate eyes wide in disappointment. Then I blink, realising it's just Nick with his ruffled brown hair and frowning face. My smile fades as I catch the subtleties in his expression; the way that the skin on his lower lip is raw from agitated biting, the tightness around his mouth and the stiffness in his shoulders. I don't have to be a seer to know that something's wrong.

I cast my thoughts back to earlier, when I'd publicly shamed and humiliated Jasmine at the Slytherin table, when she'd been cuddling up to Nick. My words from earlier ring loudly in my head ' _I'm not jealous… I don't think of Nick in_ that _way',_ and I nod my head decisively. Sure, I may have _acted_ like I was a jealous little witch earlier but I knew that at most I was just being overprotective. The clock reminds me of my detention yet the classroom is entirely empty apart from me and Nick.

"Decided to stop ignoring me then?" I ask with a wry smile, recalling his deliberate aversion of me during our afternoon lessons. Now that I dwell on it, I recall that he'd been absent this morning as well. "Hey, where were you this morning?" I add, out of sheer curiosity. His frown deepens.

"I was helping Liam Finnigan this morning and was excused from lessons." _The same Liam Finnigan that Kat was crushing on? The cocky one who hung around with Krum and Heplon?_

"How come?" I remember just the other day having interrogated Kat about which potion ingredients he'd asked her for and how he'd been after boomslang skin and fluxweed.

"Why does it matter?" he snaps back at me. Eyes glinting dangerously. I desperately want to know what the deal is with the Gryffindor boy who' been acting hella shady recently but I don't want to spur on any more bad feelings from Nick so I let it drop. For now.

I shrug, feigning nonchalance, "It's just that you two aren't that close- anyway, what's wrong?" He rakes a hand through his hair, lets out an exasperated huff and spills his metaphoric guts; "Rose! Do you know how much trouble you caused with that charade in the Dining Hall? It was petty and mean of you to out Jasmine like that in front of the entire table!" His tone strikes me by surprise- yes, I'd expected him to scold and have a mild hissy fit over the publicity side of my throw down, perhaps a little head shaking and tutting to accompany it until he was validated enough to debate with me over ancient 'witch burnings' and wizard kinds passivity relating to not saving the muggles who couldn't use spells to save themselves. What I hadn't expected was the sneer on the edge of his mouth and the disgusted way which he was currently regarding me. I was used to judgy stares from the general student body- I was a temperamental Slytherin weasley with a penchant for violence. But I never really considered how it would feel being on the receiving end of one of those looks from someone I actually gave a damn about. I had to admit… It hurt.

I try and keep calm, using the rational argument before I resort to anything that could harm our friendship; "Okay, I'll confess that publicly shaming her was not a nice thing to do but surely you understand that it was her who's at fault here. She was the one who said all that stuff about Slytherins being Death Eaters and how she'd quote unquote 'rather die than become one of the snakes'."

"She's already apologised for that." he says simply. My jaw drops open in shock.

"Are you freaking kidding me!? Firstly, her saying sorry does not pardon the cruel gossip that bitch spreads about people behind their backs. And secondly, how the bloody hell can you be so calm when she acted like such a backstabber by saying those things then sitting down in _my spot_ pretending that everything was just sunshine and daisies." Nick lets out a weary sigh, shoulders slumping a little as if the world rests on his shoulders.

"She's not a backstabber nor a bitch. Saying sorry dos pardon her as she's said to me that she's truly regretful of her words and that it's been a stressful day for her. She didn't mean all that stuff about Slytherins being evil." I do avery unladylike snort and roll my eyes.

"Yeah, _sure."_ My fingers curl into my palms as my irritation mounts. _Tiring day for her? Tiring day for_ _ **her?**_ _What did Princess Patil break a nail or something? I wonder how 'stressful' she'd feel if_ _ **she**_ _had the majority of students avoiding her out of fear and repulsion? Oh dear, how would poor ol' Jasmine feel then?_

"Honestly Rose, I don't get why you're being like this. You claim to be better than the Queen Bee but the way you're acting… It's like you have revenge on your mind like Vanessa." The comparison is a slap to the face. It's adding salt into an open wound. It _burns._ Self-righteousness flares up within me like it's been lit with a match.

Fortunately, we're interrupted before I can let my scathing tongue utter the insults bubbling inside. Scorpius' calm silver eyes regard the scene cautiously. He places a hand on my shoulder and reminds me that we have to get to detention. He and Nick lock eyes and they seem to be silently communicating in a way that I can't possibly comprehend. Nick nods, just slightly, and leaves without so much of a word tossed over his shoulder.

"Prick." I mutter under my breath, watching as Nick strolls away while brushing off Scorpius' hand.

"Why must you…" Scorpius begins in his familiar French accent, trailing off in search of the right word. "Irritate? Piss off?" I suggest helpfully, smirking as I drag him alongside me. Scorpius brushes off my hand and matches my pace perfectly as we make our way down towards the dungeons. " _Contrarier."_ he says in French. I dredge through the French I'd picked up from my French cousins to try and translate his word.

"Contradict. Antagonize."

"Oui." he nods his confirmation and I mock scowl at his accusation. I flick his nose playfully and laugh at the highly affronted face he makes at the movement. My laughter dies a very swift death as we reach the door to the Potions classroom. I rap smartly on the door three times, feeling apprehensive about what the detention would door swings open after my third knock- _as if by magic!_ I smile at my silly joke- and we enter the classroom hesitantly.

The class is utterly devoid of human life a we step in. I observe the almost sterile, empty lab in confusion and am about to voice aloud how creepy this is when the chalk levitates from its holder and methodically writes out instruction in Professor Van Der Birg's handwriting. 'Miss Weasley and Mr Malfoy. For the duration of this detention you are to follow the instructions on page 279 of the Advanced Potions Textbook atop of my desk. You must follow the instructions perfectly as any mistakes will be punished severely. I will return in two hours and I must warn you that if the potion is not up to the standard I expect there will be dire consequences. Do not mess up."

 _What the heck?_ I stand dumbly as Scorpius strides over to where the Potions textbook is and picks it up tentatively scanning the book cover oddly. "Is it just me, or has the Prof gone completely crazy?" I mumble into the cold air. "We aren't ready to move onto Advanced Potions yet! As much as I despise learning spells and potions which I'd already read up on, Advanced Potions is like N.E.W.T level stuff." I twirl and auburn lock of hair around my finger, fidgeting in distress at the instruction we'd been given. The other thing that unnerves me is how intently Scorpius is staring at the book in his hands and how, with his back against me, I cannot configure what potion we've been set to complete. I swing my legs, distantly noticing a ladder in my tights, mulling over the situation at hand. Scorpius turns back to me and his eyes appear shadowed in the dimly lit classroom.

"What is it?" His eyes are way too reminiscent of the corpses I see on Muggle shows like CSI or The Walking Dead. It's making goosebumps ripple over my skin. The melodic sound of Scorpius' voice makes me subconsciously reach for the onyx ring hung, like always, at the base of just under the neckline of my shirt. "Rose, come look at this." I don't remember jumping down off of my desk- it's as if at one moment I'm sat down and the next I'm by his side. I almost feel as though I'm dreaming. The potion glares up at me, mocking my ignorance in neatly printed black text. _Polyjuice Potion._ I skim through the ingredients list, Fluxweed and boomslang skin, piecing together some of the pieces in this twisted jigsaw. The disjointed memories slide together as my eyelids flutter shut, playing out like a theatre screen in my mind...

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

" _He came to find you to ask about a potion but then didn't say what potion it was?" I try and fail to sound as suspicious as I look. Kat's face flushes. She twirls a lock of her hair in agitation._

" _He came and asked me where I could find some ingredients- Boomslang skin and fluxweed- because he said he needed it for some potion in class."_

 _xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

 _"-I'm sure of it, ma'am. Someone is definitely pilfering items from the greenhouses."_

 _"And you're sure it is not the students?" Minerva responds, elegantly striding next to the boy she'd once taught and keeping a firm expression on her face._

 _"There would be no point," Neville Longbottom answers, "The herbs and vegetation that have been taken are only useful when casting dark spells, which no student at Hogwarts has access to. At least not without access to books in the restriction section."_

 _xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

 _His intelligent eyes are sharp and beady over his spectacles. He scratches his goatee in a familiar way. His expression is inscrutable. "Miss Weasley. You have surprised me. I did not think a Weasley could ever have acted as… Savagely, as you have just shown. Your uncanny resemblance to someone who would be quite intrigued to know of this little episode is consequential to me not informing the Headmistress of this particular mishap."_

 _xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

 _When the man steps into the light, the first man says to the traveller "Ha! What a sight you look like!" The man with the coat is in view and I risk a peek to see mousy brown hair, square glasses and a short body._

" _Borgin." the mousy-haired one spits out, as if he's really saying something like 'dagger' or 'terrorist.' He continues his sneering disdain. "I would say that it's nice to see you again, but to be perfectly honest never would be too soon to see your ugly face again." Mr Borgin lets out a delighted cackle._

" _You're not one to talk about faces, when you're not even wearing your own… A muggle! What, are the Ministry folk not cutting it for you anymore?"_

 _Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

 _The other man rubs his hairless chin a very familiar manner. I wonder if I've encountered this man before. I doubt it, seen as though apparently this man is not really himself. He is 'wearing the face' of another. I wonder exactly what that means. Either a disillusionment charm or_ _ **polyjuice.**_

 _Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

" _What… Did… You… Come here... For." he chokes out. With a wave of his wand he releases him. Mr Borgin realises before the man tells him, answering his own question: "You came for more ingredients… I'm afraid I can't help you there. The Ministry-" again with that distasteful tone, "-are already leaping down my throat about me having dragon's blood here. Claim it's 'against their rights' or some other rubbish."_

" _I need more." Mr Borgin turns his back and I use the opportunity to step across the open space, only breathing once I'm in the clear. "I can't keep using the one up there. It's gaining notice from the other teachers. Polyjuice takes time to make as well." The expansion of words is grudging, as though talking too much was undesirable for the customer._

" _I'll see what I can do."_

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

I begin to realise several things at once. But not everything adds up. Very slowly I enunciate the question to Scorpius, who'd looking at me with decipherable concern. "Scorpius, you share a dorm with Nick don't you?" he nods. I take a deep breath before barrelling on; "Why was Nick excused from classes this morning and who asked after him?" Scorpius' quizzical look prompts me to wave him on impatiently.

"Professor McGonagall was the one who came and collected him. He said to me that Liam Finnigan had suffered from some mild memory tampering and it had left him in a bit of a state." To manage my conclusions I make a mental list of the things I think I know for sure:

Professor Van Der Birg had been asking (or was it ordering?) Liam to gather Polyjuice ingredients under the cover of him earning 'extra credit'.

Ingredients and plant-based supplies (i.e fluxweed) had gone missing from the school store cupboards and greenhouses and the teachers were becoming concerned about the theft of such items.

A strange polyjuiced man, showing the same habits (like scratching an invisible goatee, for instance) had turned up on Mr Borgin's doorstep demanding that he needed more ingredients for polyjuice potion and pulling out his higher ranking and higher graces with some very elusive 'her'. Along with the violence of the man, the customer had mentioned idly about the 'Dark Lord's' rule as though such taboo topics were everyday chit chat.

Liam Finnigan was now being treated after having suffered 'memory damage', when not so long ago he was goofing around with Tom Heplon and making flirty comments to Kat (when he wasn't inquiring about potions ingredients, that is.)

My analytical brain works out that Professor VDB is the same polyjuiced muggle man who visited Borgin and Burkes. Although I don't yet understand why he is pilfering school supplies and bowing down to some, what I presume is, an ex-death eater woman; I know enough to recognize that this man is not suitable for teaching and should be reported as soon as possible to McGonagall. Scorpius taps my shoulder, but I brush him off. He does it again, a sharp prod and I break out of my trance and remove my nose from my book.

"What?" I hiss, adrenaline making my arms tremble and my legs wobble. He does not remove his gaze from something over my shoulder and I know that he wants me to turn and look. I do as he asks and almost scream in horror.

Because there, leaning against the doorframe with his head tilted calculatingly, with a sly smile stretched onto thin lips as his casually scratched his goatee, is Professor Van Der Birg.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Hello my fellow homo sapiens! :) Haven't updated in awhile, I know... Hope y'all are doing well and haven't completely forgotten about spitfire Rose and the trouble which follows her around. I hope you all like this chapter cos it's quite long and dark and signals for the near-end of year 1 *whoop whoop*. Anyways I suggest you read the end of my last chapter as it continues straight on from where she pieces together Professor VDB being a bad guy and all. Enjoy! xx**

I almost faint in horror. I swear that my heart stutters to a stop in my chest as the smirking visage of our Professor looms from just within the interior doorway. He points to the book clutched in my hands, making some glib remark about how holding it too tightly would cause the spine to crease. I can't hear this over the ringing in my ears, alarm bells screaming at me within my own head. He draws nearer, his footfalls light on the floor, his eyes sharp with intelligence and cruelty. He looks into my eyes, searching for any sign of sickness I think and I struggle to contort my face into something indifferent, the blank mask which Scorpius has schooled his own expression into. Professor Van Der Birg pauses, a metre from the two of us from either side, muttering something under his breath. The door slams shut behind him and I gape at the power behind the locking incantation. Wandless spells were rare and very tricky to master according to all the books that I'd read.

"Miss Weasley and Mr Malfoy. I trust that you understand the instructions which I laid out for you." he begins by saying.

"Why are you here?" The words blurt from my mouth and my cheeks instantly flushed when I realise the rudeness to my words. But it's too late now as the teacher is already opening his mouth to respond. I cut in- in my haste forgetting how much it irritates me when others interrupt my own conversations- to add that "I just, uh, thought that you were going to be gone for two hours..?"

"The meeting finished early." he replied, scratching his goatee with a calculating glint in his eyes. "Miss Weasley, is something the matter?" _Yes! You're a fraud who's manipulating students into using stolen supplies to provide you with polyjuice potion, which you use to sneak out to serve some highly secretive woman!_ I gulp; "No sir, I'm just feeling a little sick from lunch."

"Hm."

The man strides towards me and does an elaborate flick of his wand. Scorpius crumples beside me, unconscious before he even hit the ground. My breathing halts as the professor- _was he ever really a Professor? Was everything he told us a lie?-_ draws to a stop a metre in front of me. "W-why did you just?" My voice is weak and trails off as I wave towards Scorpius. I feel immobile and trapped, suffocated, despite there being no spell placed on me. With no further preamble, the teacher's steel eyes bore into my own and his thin lips utter one utterly ruinous spell; " _Legilimens._ "

For the first second or two, it's as though my mind can physically sense his magic pervading mine, brushing against the threshold of consciousness blocking what was me from himself. Revulsion rolls through my body in a sick wave, causing me to quake and feel utterly violated as my free will is trampled upon by the complete mind-fuck spell. And then, as quickly as the ominous presence was identified, it was firmly _shoved out_ , at the same time that my chest began to prickle and a strength appears to appear around my mind, shielding it with a bubble that cannot be breached by the intruder. I stagger, leaning heavily against the front desk to try regain my footing and I'm amazed by how deeply affected the Professor is as he physically trips over himself with the brutal force of magic thrown at him. Unfortunately, by the time that I've righted myself so has he and the curiosity in his eyes is now joined with a sharp edge, warning the primitive part of me of danger to come.

"Interesting." he sputters out, his breathing slightly uneven. "Your mind is blocked from legilimency. Why is that?" I narrow my eyes on the despicable wizard, disgusted by his blase tone, how little he thought of using that spell on a much younger and more vulnerable child.

"I'm not telling you anything." I hiss out, hedging around the desk to put more distance between us. His laugh is like a whipcrack, abrupt and threatening.

"Oh my… She really will be pleased when she hears about _you_ , Miss Weasley."

"Who is she? Why are you working for her?" Determination is a thin veil hiding my panic. The teacher regards me carefully, as though confronted with a wild animal who's cornered and baring it's teeth.

"It is not my place to speak her name. You should be thankful though, it is her who you will want to be favoured by as the years unravel. You are a clever student, Rose, just a terrible liar. You worked out that it was me who was pilfering the herbs from the greenhouses. And I have a suspicion that you forgot something very precious during your impromptu outing." With an incantation the silvery cloth of Albus' invisibility cloak floats up and out of a drawer tucked under his main desk. I try not to react at the sight of it but I can't help the wince when one of his hands snatches the cloth from the air, taunting it in front of me. I keep my lips firmly sealed, feeling scared enough being backed against the far end of the classroom by this mysteriously dark person. And I sure as hell didn't like the confidence at which he spoke his confessions, knowing from countless movies and books that the villain only admitted to their crimes when they were about to...dispose of their victims. He raises his wand, nonchalantly tapping it against his mouth, deep in contemplation.

Fear sluices through me like a red-hot knife. _Distract him! Keep him talking until help arrives!_ My mind urges. I cast a glance to Scorpius, not in the least bit comforted by his still body, immobilised on the ground. I don't have a clue how 'help' will arrive, seen as though I have a legitimate reason to be absent for two or more hours due to mine and Scorpius' joint detention.

"I don't understand," I blurt out, adding hurriedly- "What's the point in using polyjuice? What are you sneaking out for? Does this have anything to do with the Dementors acting oddly and all the Muggleborn family attack?" Professor Van Der Birg's eyes narrow to suspicious slits and his voice bleeds menace. A minute movement, the twitch of Scorpius' foot alerts that he is waking. _Wake up! Please wake up!_ I mentally urge the blonde.

"I was perfectly fine with using a memory charm like that idiot Finnigan boy who wouldn't know danger if it punched him in the face. But with _you-"_ My body racks with apprehension, I cringe down against his towering form as he draws nearer and nearer, "-I simply cannot risk whatever it is that blocks your mind from posing a threat to me from the Ministry. I have worked far too hard for far too long to gain such a high rank among her followers. And with such a clever mind as yours, it will not take as long as the others for you to realise the truth." _Oh for Godric's sake, he's as cryptic as Lysander!_ Sneakily, I do a check on Scorpius, relieved only slightly by the small movements of his hands and legs as he regains consciousness.

"What are you going to do with me?" I squeak, pitifully afraid of this ominous man. Teeth flash like the sharp row of shark teeth I'd once bought at an aquarium, tightening the muscles of my neck. My heartbeat canters along, thudding dully a rapid tempo, signalling my dismal end like a festival drum. He does not answer my question, instead raising his wand having already disarmed me in a voiceless gesture; " _Crucio."_

Pain. Searing, blinding pain envelopes me, piercing me with its sharp talons as it holds me in its bruising grip. Shuddering, jerking, spasming muscles. A shriek, truly horrifying in its agony and grief, floods into my ears, making me want to shield them from the sound. Deep pricks of white-hot fire probe every muscle, every bone and fiber of my body. Intense, all-consuming torment, coiling and stretching itself within me. Involuntarily I thresh around in circles, trying to escape the branding, terrible curse which is making every moment seem like an endless and truly agonising hour. Howls climb the wall, discordant grunts and ear-piercing screams rising as perspiration streams from every pore of my body. My chest scorches over all the other heat and all I can feel is the sensation of _pain._ "Please," I sob, shuddering and twitching and yelping on to the now bloody floor. "Make… It… _Stop_." I'm deaf to the outside world and blinded through the scarlet blood pooling in front of me as though I'd been cursed by another slicing hex. Each breath aches as it fights its way out of my crushed, bruised and aching body and my pulse hammers inside me, chipping away like a drill, reminding me of the agony of being alive. Of existing.

I can't even tell when the curse (or multiple curses) have been lifted. My body still spasms jerkily across the dank ground and I can still feel my blood rushing through my veins in a dizzying whirlwind of sensation. I'm disoriented and I'm not sure whether I am being scooped up into someone else's arms or that I'm so out of it that gravity appears to have no effect on me. Whatever the reason, I allow the rocking to lull me, although of course I cannot fully succumb into such a peaceful unconsciousness due to the residual shudders and what I'm now sure is a voice telling me to 'stay awake'.

The landscapes change through my half-open eyes, from darker to a bright, sterile white. _Am I dead?_ I wonder through the haziness of my sluggish thoughts. But no. I can't be dead. Otherwise, I wouldn't be feeling so pissed off at having my mouth held open and having potion after potion slide down my throat, leaving medicinal tastes on my tongue. The last one must be a sleeping draught because the sleep that overtakes me is less like a warm embrace and more like being hit over the head with a bludger. Drugged up and numb, I'm helpless against the chemically-forced rest.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I absolutely despise being treated like an invalid. I'd thought that being outcasted as temperamental and odd were worse but that was before the majority began walking on eggshells around me and driving me _up the freaking wall._ It had been a full week since I'd been tortured by my Potions Professor and the first day that I'd been allowed back to classes. It had take an awful lot of pleading and insistence on my part, since my mother had been adamant that I needed to take time to recover and that Uncle Harry had been equally dubious about my safety (I can't really blame him; finding out that a teacher had turned against a student was surely reminding him of all the trouble he and my parents had got up to within the 'safe' walls of Hogwarts). Fortunately, the Ministry and the Headmistress McGonagall had both come to the conclusion that the whole event was to remain a secret from the masses for the main reason of not alerting the other people within the same league as Professor VDB of him being 'caught'.

My own memory was rather fuzzy. Not of the excruciating pain I'd gone through- no, that regularly tried to haunt me during my stay at St Mungo's hospital in nightmares which made me break out into a cold sweat- but the events afterwards I simply could not remember occurring. The memory of my waking rears its ugly head as I sit in Potions, barely listening to the spindly, mild-voiced substitute whose inexperience was taken for granted by my chatty peers…

 _I'm awoken by the pressing of a cool palm on my cheek, the firm pressure of another hand clenching around my own as vibrations hum gently against my knuckles. I blink open my eyes, immensely grateful for the blinds shielding away the sunlight from my sore eyes. The cool palm belongs to Madam Pomfrey, who has been trying to rouse me from my slumber. She proffers up a caring smile, telling me gently to 'Drink up, dear' and asking me customary questions about whether I feel in pain or not. I test out my limbs, relieved when nothing feels broken, everything just aching with dull throbs. She wipes a drop of potion which dribbles down my chin and cautions me not to move around too much. I nod to appease the woman, asking her what was wrong with me. "Do you remember what happened?" The question brings back the recollection of a zealous follower and white-hot agony. I nod slowly, feeling the vibration against my hand speed up, yet not willing to acknowledge her presence until we're alone._

" _What is the damage?" My voice sounds croaky with disuse, I snake my tongue out to wet my cracked lips. "How… How long have I been asleep?" The Healer hesitates before responding._

" _The Cruciatus curse was not the only curse used on you, dear. You have been hhealed from most of your bruising and shallow wounds yet you still have a mild concussion and there is a scar which will not heal across your stomach. There are some markings, similar to runes, across your chest which the Healers at St Mungo's would've liked to have tested but the branded markings don't seem to cause you any pain when touched nor is there any recollection of what sort of curse might have caused these." I ponder this for a moment, mulling over the extra heat which I'd felt during my torture but how I'd felt the same heat when I'd somehow barricaded the Dutch professor from my mind, when he'd attempted to perform legilimency. "You've been in St Mungo's for four days and this has been your fifth since the incident." The Healer smiles at me sadly, then moves away from my bedside, telling us both that she had to go tell Professor McGonagall that I had awakened._

 _Once the door had shut, I turn to the woman at my side and pat her frizzy hair in comfort. Chocolate brown eyes shine through tears as they lift from my hand to stare deep into mine._

" _I'm okay mum, honestly." I reassure, stroking back her curls that I'd inherited and smiling warmly into her teary face. Her cheeks are streaked with tears and I'm secretly surprised by how disorderly she looks with her borrowed attire, the tee-shirt two sized too large and the school skirt a smidge too small for her. I wonder whether I'd ever seen her this out of sorts before. "My baby girl," she whispers in the still air, "You couldn't see how you looked when I arrived at the hospital. All the blood and your screaming." Her pale face turns ashen with the memory, her lips pressing kiss after kiss against my cheeks. Her hands flutter across my forehead, my eyelids, my cheeks and to my chin as though reassuring herself that I was really here. My heart breaks at the pain reflected in her eyes and the sorrow brewing in them._

" _It's not your fault," I tell her, knowing without her telling me that she was blaming herself for what had happened. Despite her having been hundreds of miles away in the London Ministry when it had happened. "Listen to me, mum. It was not your fault and I am okay. Do you hear me? I am okay now, I promise." Her pale face droops into a nod and her melodic voice repeats the words again and again in a mantra. I squeeze her hand to lend her strength._

 _The door bursts open and I'm aghast at how badass they look when they enter. Harry is at the centre, his emerald eyes ablaze with determination and concern behind his wire-rimmed glasses and the power he exerts is not lessened by the fact that in his left hand are a brown-paper bag and in his right hand a carton of take-out cups. Flanking him is Professor McGonagall whose grey hair hasn't got a strand out of place and to Harry's left strides Kingsley Shacklebolt, the recently-retired Minister of Magic. Mum straightens up when she sees them all and she wipes her cheeks hastily. Harry's step falters when he notices her tears but he resumes his pace after she shoots him a small smile._

" _Rose! Thank Godric, you're awake." Harry says, taking the small space I budge up to make, on the same side as my mother's chair is sat._

" _Hi Harry," I greet, glad that there was a distraction from my mother's grief and guilt._

" _How are you feeling, kiddo?" he asks, seriousness lowering his voice by a couple of octaves. McGonagall is over at the far side chatting quietly with Madam Pomfrey, who's just slipped inside and I slide my gaze back to Uncle Harry with a little bit of nervousness._

" _I'm okay," I tell him. "I'm healing, after all." I add a small smile to reinforce my statement, not wanting to delve too deeply into the specifics of the curse with him. I understood that he knows what the cruciatus feels like but I'm not ready to share that with him just yet._

 _As though he's in tune with my thoughts, he grins to ease the tension and whips out the bag, taking out some freshly baked cookies. My mouth waters at the sight of the chocolate-chip delights and I hear Kingsley chuckle at my unabashed desire for the food._

" _Thought you might be hungry," Harry explains, handing one to me and offering one to Kingsley, who politely declines the treat. Finally, Harry turns to my mother and he hands one to her, refusing to take her head-shake as a proper refusal. Hermione adjusts her hair instead, tying it into a messy but rather adorable bun, which does not distract Harry from his original purpose._

"' _Mione, when was the last time you've eaten?" he questions with a concerned furrow between his brows. She huffs out a sigh, waving at me as though to say 'I've been a tad preoccupied if you can't tell' although her eyes are warm and kind as she does this._

" _Mum, take the cookie." I sigh, knowing just how stubborn Hermione Jean Granger could be._

 _Reluctantly she accepts the baked good with a polite thank you but cannot help but add that "I'd actually eaten this morning." with a proud tilt of her head. I hold my breath, expecting Uncle Harry to blow up like Dad would; make some mumbled comment of her acting 'intolerable' or 'up her own arse', and I'm pleasantly relieved when Harry only laughs, seemingly amused by her stubborn behaviour, my eyes popping out when he plants an affectionate kiss on her cheek. He whispers something in her ear that suspiciously sounds like "Granola bars don't count" but I can't be sure._

 _Kingsley clears his throat, amused but more focused on the business side to all of this. After that I tell them all of what had happened leading up to the curse, about my suspicions of him being a fraud, the pilfered supplies and Liam's suspicious requests from Kat, leaving out the whole late-night rendez-vous down Knockturn alley, knowing that, despite my guilt, if I'd told them about that it would lead to questions about what I was doing in the restricted section in the first place while also putting Lysander under jeopardy of being punished. Instead I compromise, fabricating the impression that he'd got the cloak when I'd been in the library one evening and had been careless enough to leave it there. Harry and Hermione both seem a little suspicious at that, probably because of my tendency to not forget such important items, but they fortunately deem it inconsequential in the grander-scale of the story._

" _What happened after I was cursed? Did Scorpius wake up and save me?" I'm curious as to filling in the blanks. I take a sip from my hot chocolate that Harry had bought me, enjoying the way the warm liquid flushed out the icky potion residue and eased my vocal cords._

" _Not exactly," Kingsley booms, his deep voice authoritative and empathetic. I prompt him to continue. "It was actually the Head Girl who released Levi Van Der Birg's hold on you. She claimed that she wanted to talk to him about a potion she was researching and had been directed to the dungeons by The Grey Lady. However, we are unable to confirm or deny her story due to the ghost having apparated off the premises for some unknown reason._

" _Marissa!? Marissa was the one who saved me?" I almost choke on my drink and three pairs of eyes immediately leap to mine._

" _Do you know her well?" Kingsley suggests, rather tenuously. I shake my head and scoff._

" _As if anyone really knows Marissa. Except, her brother that is." The adults share a look at this which confuses me. "How do you know her? Other than her title of Head Girl." My mum digs._

 _I dwell on all the times I've shared with her, from the first time I saw her crimson red lips and raven curls, black cat winding around Esmeralda's feet, to when we played chess and her cool calmness could transform into viper-lashing violence within a heartbeat._

" _I've played chess with her once. She told me that it was a good way to judge a person's strengths and weaknesses. I put her in checkmate." I summarise, slowly._

" _So you won against her?" The ex-Minister assumes. I'm about to nod but then I pause, thinking. Did I really win against her? Because if the true purpose of the game was to determine my character more than revolving around the pieces on the board then she learnt a lot more from me than I did of her. Fortunately, the question is accepted as rhetorical and Uncle Harry continues the story of how she'd disarmed and then stunned the Professor before rousing Scorpius and ordering him to cradle me tightly in his arms to relive the shuddering that the curse was known for causing. She'd made her way to the Hallway but by the time she was halfway to the school infirmary, Lysander Scamander had already forewarned the teaching staff, Healers and Aurors that 'something terrible had happened to Rose Weasley' and they'd leapt into action to arrest the man and save little ol' me._

 _Shortly after, I was being told sternly by the Healer that I needed to take more potions and sleep and so the rest of Saturday night was spent dozing off with the help of 'Dreamless sleep' substances._

 _Sunday consisted of an early-morning start, more potions (although this one was the chalk-and-grass concoction that Nick had given me when I'd had that migraine ages ago), a quick shower where I stubbornly refused assistance from anyone, claiming that I was not some newborn who needed help with_ _ **bathing**_ _, for Salazar's sake! Mum left after my shower under multiple commands from different people that I was fine and that she would see me soon. And then, once my hair was drying into auburn curls, the distinct voices of arguing brought a smile on my face. Arguing wouldn't usually have made me so happy, if it wasn't the distinct voice of Kat rising through the heavy Medical Wing doors that made me grin. Sure enough, seconds later the blue-tied girl storms her way over, striking blue eyes honing on me like lasers and swooping down like the 'hurricane' I'd affectionately dubbed her as. In her wake Olivia apologises to Madam Pomfrey for Kat's rudeness and Diamond tries ushering her forward with her usual sarcasm and snark. Kat launches a hug at me, blue eyes wide and greedy as she scours my body for visible marks. I show her my scar, a tender raw pink line that fluctuates in a wavy line from just beneath my navel to the underside of my bra. It's puffy and ugly and makes me want to cry. Kat traces it with soft fingertips and tell me seriously that I am beautiful even with the scar and that I am the bravest girl she has ever come across. I almost lose it then and there, under the ocean-deep love in her gaze, but I stamp down the urge and hug my best friend tightly, thanking God for such a wonderful angel. Olivia and Diamond arrive then and entertain me with school banter, telling me the 'cover story' which everyone but McGonagall, Pomfrey, Kingsley, Lysander, Marissa, my mother, brother, Dad and Uncle Harry had been fed: that Professor VDB had been a thief and during detention had tried to get me and Scorpius to steal supplies yet when we resisted had striked out at authorities had been warned beforehand and saved us before either student was thrown into fatal danger. It's an alright cover story, yet I know without needing to ask that Kat disbelieves it._

 _During the catch-up I find out that Liam Finnegan asked Kat to go out with him (she accepted, of course), Nick had fallen out with Jasmine since I'd been hospitalized, distancing himself from the girl until she would accept his friendship with me (which made a happy glow warm up my heart) and that Louis had been sentenced to detention for using and selling small globe-like spheres to store test answers that would disguise the words as red smoke (just like a remembrall would) whenever someone who wasn't the owner looked at one. This solved the mystery since the start of term of what the hell my cousin stashed in his pockets which was round and reflective and I laugh along with Olivia when Kat points out that it was something that "Diamond would do". Diamond gives a catty wink which triggers another round of giggles. Because of the secrecy surrounding my hospital-trip, once the girls leave I am not flooded with the entire Weasley clan which makes me strangely saddened. However, my disappointment is replaced with happiness when my little brother parades in with Dad and he doesn't hesitate to kiss my cheeks over and over even when I laugh that it is 'gross' and making me all icky with ten-year-old boy germs. Regardless the animated tales of Hugo's ant farm and him 'accidentally' setting off a stink bomb at his primary school makes me miss the days when I would be beside him as he detonated one on mean Mrs Beasley's desk. Dad is more subdued than Hugo, yet plaits my hair like he did when I was younger and updates me on the Chudley Cannon League scores (which are bottom of the league yet 'are looking up with the new manager!'). When Hugo yawns and cuddles up to me, Dad leaves to get us some food and during the break I pat down some of my little bro's carrot-top fuzz and inquire about what's going on at home. "Everything's fine, sissy." Hugo murmurs, "Grandma keeps coming over and I spend more time at the Burrow because of mum's promotion. I think she's happier now with the job. I like it when she's happy."_

" _Me too." I mumble into his bony little shoulder. "What about dad? He seems a little off."_

" _Mum said that he's just sensitive at the moment. He doesn't like it that mum works so late and he nips out more often too." I niggling fear tugs at me that dad's 'nipping out' might be similar to what I'd experienced over the christmas break, where dad would take his wallet and go to the bar to drink it away and return home late solely to prove a point. What point that was, I never understood, but I didn't like the way that his 'proving a point' would reduce my mother to tears and make her so guilty about doing the job she loved to do. I don't voice this to Hugo, instead tightening my arms around his small frame, rubbing my nose against his in a sibling eskimo kiss._

A prod in my side cuts the memory short and Scorpius' face is creased into one of worry.

"Are you okay?" he queries for the third time today. I resist the impulse to throttle him., knowing that I couldn't help it that the student body now deemed it necessary to check on my health every two bloody minutes. I resist the impulse to snap at him, hating my weakness for the response it drove people to give me and especially irritated because Scorpius had _literally_ seen me at my worst and lowest point. I nod curtly, biting my lip to stop myself from screaming with frustration.

"Hey, Rosie Posie." The familiar taunting from my left almost makes me sigh in relief. "You're not gonna pretend to be all weak and stuff to forfeit the next flying lesson quidditch game, are you?" Sebastian Krum mocks, oblivious- or perhaps just uncaring- of the death glares being shot at him by nearly every other person in the room. _Thank merlin that at least one person doesn't waste any sympathy on me._ My grin is wide but genuine as I appraise the Gryffindor.

"As if I'd forfeit the match. I can't wait to see a bludger hit you again." I tease.

"Game on, Rose." the Bulgarian smirks, miming making the winning shot. I roll my eyes in amusement.

 _Just you wait,_ I think to myself, excited over the upcoming match. _Better watch out Krum._


End file.
